#plus all those one-shot AUs I did specifically for the week

[victorluvsalice]

Valicer OT3 Week Masterpost

Did it for Polyship Week, so should do it for OT3 Week as well! This is just a straight-up list of the fics by day, with the relevant AU information and anything else you might need to know next to it in parentheses; "established" AUs (that is, AUs I already had tags for, instead of being a one-shot AU for the specific prompt) have their AU tag linked as well:

Day One: Meet Cute (Modern!AU)

Day Two: The Cool Kid, The Jock, And The Nerd (High School!AU)

Day Three: Childhood Friends (Vaguely Victorian!AU, Kidfic)

Day Four: The Knight, The Princess, And The Dragon Are Actually All Together (Medieval Fantasy!AU, hypnokinky and slightly NSFW at the end -- the post itself has the "Mature" community tag)

Day Five: Nontraditional Soulmates (Soulmates!AU)

Day Six: No One Wants To Leave The Cuddle Pile (Modern!AU, slightly hypnokinky near the end)

Day Seven: Free Day (Valicer In The Dark!AU)

Hope you enjoyed this week of Valicer prompts! As always, I am continuing to work on Valicer fic in the background -- making some good progress on the first official "Valicer In The Dark" fic, "Start At The Beginning...Sort Of." Really hoping I can release that for general consumption soon!

[steddieunderdogfics]

This week's writer spotlight feature is: @kkpwnall! They have eight Stranger Things and Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson works on archive of our own!

An anonymous nominator recommends the following works by kkpwnall:

driving in your car

love is like ghosts

where's the spark?

if it wasn’t for bad luck i wouldn’t have luck at all

wanted: pool boy at the vampire mansion

KK's works have a consistent feel of genuine, heartfelt, human connection. Whether it’s a big, dramatic scene as the climax of a slow, delicious build-up of tension, or a mundane, slice-of-life tidbit, the characters always feel true to themselves, and their voices are perfectly nailed each and every time. And by that I mean, you can literally hear the dialogues in the characters’ voices—they’re THAT good. KK explores classic Steddie themes in their longfic Driving In Your Car, and they have a handful of wonderful one-shots and two-shots, each and every one of them delving into how much these boys love each other for who they are. In short, KK’s body of work feels like a love letter of the characters. If you love Steve and Eddie, chances are you’ll love their fics. - anonymous

Below the cut, @kkpwnall answered some questions about their writing process and some of their recommended work!

Why do you write Steddie? 

They’re such a compelling and complementary pairing. Like, it seems like an opposites attract / odd-couple pairing on the surface, but beneath each of their exteriors, they’re so similar. They’re dork4dork, loser4loser, idiot4idiot, they’re both huge nerds but in different ways. They want and need and express affection through physical touch and words of affirmation (I mean, just look at the walking through the forest scene!) Plus they just have this insane chemistry that any time I think “there’s no way they did that, it’s all in my head”, I’ll go back and watch those scenes again, it’s just like “no, this absolutely checks out, they are so into each other from the word go”. And they’re just made for each other! I mean, come on! Matching scars? Nail bat and nail shield? Jock and nerd? They’re two halves of the same coin! What I really love about them too is that they’re both Just Some Guy, they’re silly, goofy, dorky guys! But mostly, I write steddie because it makes me happy and really satisfies part of my brain like nothing else. 

What’s your favorite trope to READ?

Other than “Eddie Munson Lives” hahah, I’ll try just about anything written or recommended by a beloved mutual. Mutual pining, fix-it’s, missing scenes, and first kiss fics are top tier for me, and right now I’m really partial to fluffy romcom fics. If it’s got good flirting and banter, it’s got me hooked.

What’s your favorite trope to WRITE?

My absolute favorite to write is mutual pining (aka the love is requited, they’re both just being stupid). Miscommunication is a close second, the kind that can’t easily be resolved with just a sticky note on the fridge. Whether it’s mishearing something or misunderstanding something (even the character misunderstanding their own feelings!), I find it super compelling to write. But for a specific scenario, my favorite will always be Steve having a bad time at a party.

What’s your favorite Steddie fic?

It’s impossible for me to pick just one, so I have to recommend 3 of my friends: Anyway It’s About Old Friends by @fragilecapric0rnn, and wanna be the only one for miles and miles (except for maybe you) by @judasofsuburbia, and everybody else (everybody else looks like they’ve figured it out) by @heybluechild. Anything by these fine folks is just fantastic, they’re all incredible writers and dear friends!

Is there a trope you’re excited to explore in a future work but haven’t yet?

I’d really like to write more AU’s! I’ve been tossing around ideas for college-aged+ aus (writing them a little older), 90s aus, a cowboy au… Mostly I’m just excited to keep writing them!

What is your writing process like?

Ahah it’s not much of a process. I write down every idea I have, no matter how small it is. Sometimes it’s a line of dialogue or a moment of a scene, but it all goes into the notes app and percolates in the back of my brain for a while. Eventually that dialogue or scene might coalesce into something bigger on its own, or combine with other snippets, and then ya got yourself a stew!

Do you have any writing quirks?

I really love writing dialogue, it’s my favorite way to get inside their heads, especially trying to balance what they say or don’t say, vs what they actually mean. I also love adding little details to fill out the world and the scene. It might not be necessary, but it feels like it brings everything together for me. And I like treating writing a fic like building a puzzle, trying to figure out just the right way to get all the pieces to fit together so the whole thing really sings.

Do you prefer posting when you’ve finished writing or on a schedule?

I’m still playing around with what I prefer. With driving in your car, I started out by posting a chapter only when the following chapter was completely written, so I’d always have one in the tank. But that got to feel too much like I was just sitting on chapters for the sake of sitting on them, so I started posting each chapter as I finished it and felt good about it. I don’t do super well with a schedule for posting fics, I’ve got too many deadlines in my life as it is haha.

Which fic are you most proud of?

driving in your car, for sure. It’s my baby, my magnum opus, my kitchen sink fic (it’s got everything). It’s got so much of myself in it, it’s very personal, and very near and dear to my heart.

How did you get the idea for driving in your car?

I wrote a long post about this when the idea was just starting to percolate, but the long and short of it is I wanted to read more fics that reflected my own experiences as an older teen growing up in a suffocating small town, where really the only option you have is to just pile in the car with your friends and drive around aimlessly, because that’s the only way you can get any freedom or privacy. I wanted to see what life was like for the fruity four trying to get back to “normal” while also trying to deal with the fact the world almost ended AGAIN, and all their complicated messy feelings for one another.

What inspired love is like ghosts?

Like many people have guessed / suspected, it’s very much inspired by Buzzfeed Unsolved / Watcher Ghost Files, and a loving homage to ghost hunting shows. I’m a huge scaredy cat when it comes to anything horror, but I love a good ghost hunting show. The study room setting is also inspired by the miniscule closet-sized study rooms in the library at the college I went to.

What was your favorite part to write from love is like ghosts?

Parts of their make out scene was the first snippet I wrote and the one that really got the whole ball rolling with that fic, to try to figure out who this Steve and this Eddie are, and what would have to happen lead them to making out that hard in the study room. It was also the first steamy spicy almost-smutty scene I’d written, and it was so fun to learn how to write like that!! I also just love their banter in this fic, they’re both so sassy and ridiculous and completely gone on each other.

How do/did you feel writing where’s the spark??

Ooft this one was a doozy. This is actually the second draft, and the only time so far I’ve all but completely scraped the first draft and rewritten a fic. The first draft leaned really heavily into the loneliness of the holidays, my playlist for it was all of the most maudlin holiday songs, and it really started negatively affecting my mood and mindset. But I got some really great advice and help brainstorming from dear friends, and turned it around into a fic I’m really happy with. The holiday blues are still present, but there’s so much more love there now, and that’s really what the fic is all about.

What was the most difficult part of writing where’s the spark??

Finding that balance of holiday blues and love was really tricky, and I wrote for a lot of characters I hadn’t tried writing before either. From a technical perspective too, it was a big challenge to figure out how to keep the fic moving, and the party moving around Steve when all he wanted to do was wallow.

Do you have a favorite scene and/or line from any of your fics?

It’s so so hard to pick just one, but I love how this line in love is like ghosts turned out: And Steve is dumbstruck, kiss-drunk, half-fucked.

Do you have any upcoming projects or fics you’d like to share/promote?

I have a holiday exchange fic coming out soon (hopefully before the holidays, fingers crossed), and I’m excited to dive into my prompt for lex’s winter fic challenge soon! I’d love to get the last chapter of driving in your car ready to share by the end of January. And there’s a secret [redacted] au I’m co-authoring with a very special friend that I would absolutely love to write in the new year!

Outside of these questions, Is there anything YOU would like to add?

Just that I love this community so much. I’ve made so many incredible friendships because of this show, and I’m so grateful to be a part of this little corner of the internet. I never shared my writing publicly before finding the steddie community, and I’ve been really overwhelmed and delighted by the response to my writing and art (especially to be nominated to do something like this!! Truly an honor!). I was, at best, a casual Stranger Things fan before season 4. I wasn’t even going to watch it when it came out. But then I saw all the gorgeous fanart and gifs, and started reading headcanons, and had to check it out. I’m so so glad that I did, my life has changed so much for the better.

Thank you to our author, @kkpwnall, and our nominator! See more of @kkpwnall's work featured on our page throughout the day!

Writer's Spotlight is every Wednesday! Want to nominate an author? You can nominate them here!

[pzyii]

Refrence sheet (aka an excuse to talk about details and scars)

all the details are under cut (tw for small self harm mention)

First just short. Yes she’s a lesbian, Idc that if btvs was made today they would’ve written her as bi, that’s not how it is, she’s written as a lesbian, she’s just comphet.

Secondly, I hc her as enby because well I want to, she likes using the trans flag too cause she thinks it’s pretty. (Tara’s a trans woman btw. And Dawn is transfeminine, a hc I can talk about a lot too if prompted. They are a family of trans lesbians)

And she goes by she/they/it with no special preferences cause I say so, tho I only used she in these rants for simplicity.

And yeah she's autistic but we all already knew that.

gonna go by detail by detail for these closeups

Chest scar: so personally I headcanon that Willow (without thinking) took Tara’s pain as she died. Partly because of how she describes being shot to Warren so- personally. And just cause historically she haven’t been the best at controlling her powers. So that combined with everything that happened during her Dark Willow arc combined and I guess manifested a scar. It partly represents just how shattered and broken her heart became when Tara died.

Stomach scar: pretty self explanatory, she got it from the Gnarl in Same Time, Same Place. Because I think when you heal something using nature-healthy magic it leaves a scar cause it’s really just a sped up version of the natural process. This is especially true for when Willow heals herself cause of guilt that is always in her head trying to convince her to not heal. Also just like- she had strips of her skin eaten, that’s bound to leave a scar. And just the whole episode is so great and everything about it is so important so I think she needs a reminder of it.

Thin scars: a few are scratches she’s gotten over the years but most are sh scars. There’s not much to elaborate with that for now, I just think it’s something she did/does.

Big forearm scars: these are from when she resurrected Buffy. She has 2 alike ones on her other forearm. Another headcanon I have is that when wounds are caused by like really dark magicks, like the ones Willow used, scars don’t tend to heal normally, so they took a lot longer to heal than normal wounds their size, and also left clearer scars. Also yknow more scars that work as reminders for her guilt.

Rings: she’s gotten them from a bunch of different people, I don’t have the specifics for that, but the one with green is one is Buffys (in Who Are You? Willow is wearing one of Buffys rings that she and Tara uses for the spell)

Braclets: there’s nothing special about the beige one but the blue one is one of those braided friendship braclets. Dawn made it for her.

Burn scar: it is what I just said. She got it in Gingerbread (she screams like “Buffy I’m on fire!” During it). Not only is Gingerbread one of my favrouite MOTW episodes but it’s really important in understanding Willows character because of her relationship with her mom. So I thought if I had the opportunity to give her a physical scar to remind her of the time her mom tried to kill her i just had to take it. In my personal headcanon of the show she walked with crutches in Helpless (since that only takes place one week after Gingerbread). (Also funfact, in my mlp au i haven’t posted here(if anyones interested send an ask) the burn caused chronic pain and she uses a pony-wheelchair)

Hair: her hair used to be fully the same mid ginger colour but after Dark Willow it was permanently darkened at her roots.

Eyes: her eyes used to be green but turned pink because of the Buffy resurrection spell. And this is very much partly cause I’m an artist who just wants to have fun with my design. But it’s also the complementary hue to the one I use for Buffys eyes. Plus to me when you resurrect someone your soul and essence is kinda torn apart cause you need to kinda go to the afterlife to get them back in a way. So yeah her physical body was put through trials but so was just her psyche and well soul i guess, and because of that her soul is weirdly connected to Buffys, which also was torn apart and put back together. So complimentary!!! (Buffy didn’t notice the the change in colour until their conversation on the curb in Gone, she thinks they’re pretty)

Scars under eyes: these are also partly cause of stylistic choice (to be fair all are). But my design of Dark Willow has veins under her eyes, like tears. So they left scars, scars that also in theory looks like tears.

[grassbreads]

Fic asks 2, 4 wrt An Act of Trust, and 30

Thank you for the ask bestie!

2. Go to your AO3 “Works” page, to the sidebar with all the filters, and click the drop-down arrow for “Additional Tags.” What are your top 3-5 most used tags? Do you think they accurately represent your writing habits?

My top two are "alternate universe—modern setting" and "post-canon," which absolutely represent my writing habits accurately. After that, it's just a whole bunch of different tags that are all tied at two uses. To pick some highlights, I'd say the "one shot" tag and "fluff" and "angst" being right next to each other all represent me pretty well. "Christmas," however, not so much.

Honestly now that I think about it, oneshot should probably be my number one most used tag. Apparently I just forget to include it more often than not lmao.

The other two questions are under the cut :)

4. What detail in An Act of Trust are you really proud of?

Personally, I'm extremely fond of all of Vanitas and Noé's back and forth dialogue in the beginning before the stitches. Vanoé have such a specific vibe when they're snarking at each other and I think I managed to capture some of it there :).

30. Have you ever written something that was out of your comfort zone? If so, what was it, and how did it affect your approach to writing fic thereafter?

Y'know I honestly can't think of any of my published fics that are particularly out of my comfort zone. I'm fairly confident as a writer, I think. More often than not, if I have an idea, I just go for it and let whether or not I finish the damn thing be the arbiter of whether it's meant to be. Also, to be honest, a decent majority of my ideas tend to be ideas for post-canon fics or modern AUs, and as established, those are very much my wheelhouse.

However, I do have a work in progress that I'm almost certainly never going to actually post, and that one falls into the out of my comfort zone category pretty solidly.

About a year ago when I got covid and was confined to my bedroom for weeks, I ended up writing a big chunk of an mxtx crossover fic. The premise, since I was purposely being as self-indulgent as possible, is that the main couples from all three novels basically rewatch their life stories together and bond over it. And when it's each main character's turn to star, three more characters from their world show up for the ride. And it turns out, accurately characterizing eleven characters at a time in any scene is, uh, fucking hard. Just including eleven characters period in a given scene is hard enough from a blocking standpoint.

The thing turned out to be really hard to write, in other words. Also, recapping the entire plotlines of three long web novels plus reactions is an insane undertaking. I realized pretty quickly I was never gonna finish the thing.

However! I do still work on that fic. Even knowing that I'm probably never going to post more than a few excerpts, the process, though hard, is fun enough that I can't leave it to rot. Every once in a while I pick it up and add to it a bit, to the point that it's now my third longest fic at just under 9k words. (I am not a longfic girl lol).

So anyway, tldr, the lesson learned from getting out of my comfort zone is that sometimes it's worthwhile to work on things you'll never publish or finish just for your own enjoyment :).

[fxshigurosbae]

THE TEASING TEACHER . . .

his favorite student is graduating, so nothing can stop him.

⋆.ೃ࿔* gojo satoru (32) x f!reader (21)

✶ mature content (minors do not interact) — college!au, age gap, pet names, forbidden relationship, choking, dacryphilia, jealous, biting, orgasm denial, praise, creampie, size kink, sound restraint, unprotected sex, strong language.

NOTE. thank you so much for 1k followers! i’m beyond grateful for everything and for all the support, here’s a special one-shot for you!!

taglist | masterlist

Gojo, your college teacher which never really felt like a true professor, he was quite older than you and yet his looks said otherwise, you admired him, knowing him for just a little more than three years, he’d always pester you with jokes and give you tons of assignments.

Some things definitely changed as time went by and you could feel an odd air between the two of you, he’d ask more of you, laugh more near you, annoy you more, assist you intensely, surely something he did not do with the others. He surely had an arrogant personality, which did bother you from time to time, but it was his charm to be that goofy man dressed in such an attractive way, grasping the looks from whoever felt like giving him some proud attention, except for those surviving beside him — you included — since all were used to it. There was suddenly a day, in the week of your graduation, that you were called in to his office, lightly shaking in nervousness, wondering what could it be.

“Close it.” His voice echoed after you had knocked and entered the room, seeing him leaning on the wood table with arms crossed.

“You called, Mr. Gojo?”

“Yes, dear,” that damn nickname made you gulp hard. “you can come near, you know I don’t bite.” Staring at you with his permanently worn round black sunglasses, black long sleeve shirt that could drive anyone insane, doing as he ordered, noticing even more your height difference.

“Is there something I can do f—

“You’re graduating soon,” you kept shut, reminding yourself that his words were never to be interrupted. “I can’t seem to grasp that thought on my mind.”

“What do you mean, sir?” He stared at you, sighing after hearing that specific last word come out of your mouth.

“I don’t want you to graduate, or else I’ll be lonely.” That was unexpected, you were wordless.

“It’ll be sad to leave too, sensei.” His chest had risen once again, taking a deep breath.

“You like teasing me, don’tcha?” Your cheeks flushed, you knew he was flirty but not this much.

“Sorry, I don’t understand a thing, plus… are you insinuating that I’ll be repeating a year?”

“That does sound nice, doesn’t it? I could see you every day for another year.” Once more, you flushed.

“Is it appropriate for you to be saying such things, sensei?”

“No one’s listening.” His tone changed, it was shivering, you certainly were closer than you had acknowledged. In the silence, he threw his head back, letting you admire his well-defined neck and jaw, hearing as well a groan. “You sure are tempting.”

“Sens—

“Gosh, you know how to drive me insane, Y/N.” Once again he interrupted, staring right back at you with such intensity. “I wanna touch you.”

Speechless.

“Sensei, are you alright? You’re joking, right?” You saw him lean closer to you, feeling his breath on your cheeks.

“Not in the slightest, let me touch you.” You didn’t respond, your lips parting slightly, breathing heavily and leaving low groans of confusion. “Answer me.”

“Okay.” You murmured, so embarrassed you could cry, having his large fingers intervene with the strands of your hair, feeling them with the tips of those fingers, running through the root to ends.

“Your smell, your hair… your eyes.” He emphasized lowly, his voice enchanting you. Faces close by inches, the space only getting smaller until he then finally attached those soft velvety lips against yours in a sweet manner, pulling away with a peck noise, taking you by surprise, as you covered your mouth with your forearm unconsciously.

“Sensei, I… shouldn’t allow myself to get this close to you.”

“If I give you permission then that won’t be a problem, will it?” You hummed in disagreement, not knowing what else could you say to this man, seeing him take off those glasses and rest them on the table. “Good, then sit here.” Before you could process the situation, you were found sat on top of his lap, on the leathery chair he was always found at. He could feel your heartbeat, not the one on your chest, he could feel your embarrassment, your fear, your arousal, your needy thoughts.

“Sensei.” You whispered unconsciously, not knowing what else you could say, having your legs bent to fit on the seat, to wrap around his legs and waist perfectly, having your smooth thighs held by his palms.

You were lucky, lucky to have been wearing a skirt that day, yet you were miserable, miserable to be wearing nothing but a white underwear underneath it, meaning your undeniable wetness had drawn a circle on the fabric of his pants. His face was inches apart and you could feel his intense gaze over you, his hands roaming every single curve and squeezing soft parts of your skin until reaching your lower waist, your hips, holding them still, pressing downwards, feeling his bulge growing and perfectly shaping under you, making you imagine how red your cheeks must have been, which was unusual, no man has ever made you feel this way, but you knew Gojo wasn’t just an ordinary man. His lips then pressed against your warm neck, leaving long pecks just to give an unexpected bite, a moaned gasp leaving your lips, your hips accidentally moving forward, back arching slightly and gripping onto his black sleeves.

“Dirty girl.” He murmured again.

“S-Sensei, people are going to see my, my neck.”

“Don’care.” Gojo mumbled, taking your skin into his mouth, your head slight up, eyes squinted and lips quivering in order to attempt quietness. You were growing impatient, having to deal with him marking territory, playing with you, taking his time with you and you couldn’t do anything but let him have his way, even though you enjoyed it immensely.

“U’re mine, get it, darling?” The man’s left hand cupped the side of your neck, hypnotizing you with those well-chosen words. All you could do was hum back. “Good.” You felt his hand sneak under you, lead by an unzipping noise, all while he had your neck as a biting toy.

“Wanna feel your pussy so bad.” He knew how to mess with your heart.

“S-Sensei, you’re being s-so inappropriate.” You shyly muttered.

“Want me to stop, honey? I doubt that’s the case, I know how much you like to hear me say that.” He was indeed correct, you loved it, the attention, the passion and he loved hearing you call him that way. Your hips leisurely and unnoticeable moved in a back and forth movement, having your clit ache for friction yet nothing happened. His hand held now the back of your head, pulling it slightly back, allowing more kisses on the flesh, his other unoccupied hand fondled your ass, gripping with will.

“I can’t wait any longer, can I fuck you already?” Gojo shamelessly asked, having to stare at you with a distressed expression, humming was all you could do, there was nothing in your mind that could make you think of what to reply. It was quick, you could finally feel his cock spring out of those boxers and touch your sensitive nub, it wasn’t fair that he was exactly like you had imagined, if not a bit bigger, your entire body getting to a reddish tone.

“Want me to fill you up real good?” He bit his lip, smirking, teasing you, it was over your limit, he was shameless, worthless, he was a whore, and you loved it, so much, it made you think of yourself as a perverted person.

“That’s not…”

“Stop looking for excuses,” You gripped onto the fabric over his chest. “as much as I want to hear your pretty voice, I’ll have to ask you to keep it down, can you do that for me, sweetheart?” His hands had easily pulled your shirt up, letting your torso exposed to him as you nodded carefully and hesitant. “Hold this with your mouth for me.” The white fabric of your own clothing was in between your teeth, just like he ordered, letting his hands grope onto your perfect amount of chubbiness by the sides of your pelvis. He aligned himself with you, as your panties were to the side, he had to be careful, or else he’d slide inside of you with just a simple move, because of how wet you were.

Finally, it was devastating, in such a good way, it was as if you were being destroyed by such amazing feeling, it was consuming you, possessing you entirely already, having your head and back thrown back, he wasn’t even halfway in, thrusting the tip so harshly and the rest of the length leisurely, provoking, punishing, making you miserable while he chuckled lowly, watching you get desperate. He surely had to keep composure, but little did you know that he was as miserable as you were, dirty thoughts all over his mind, wondering what he’d be doing with you next, how he’d make you come undone to him, how he’d make you his forever, he’s been longing for this for so long.

“Your little cunt is just so tight, and yet you’re so wet.” Your knuckles turned white, having his abundant girth finally enter you all the way in, letting out a relieved breath but he didn’t give you much time to adjust, thrusting inside you harshly, only once, resulting in your entire body moving along his, those strong hips of his lifting you from the chair so effortlessly, like you were a feather, a doll, his doll.

“S-Sensei, sensei.” You whispered those sweet words to him again and again, feeding his ego, such melody to his ears.

Pounding into you so eagerly, your cheeks slightly filled with air, trying your best to keep quiet, back arching tensely, you seemed like a bunny hopping repeatedly on his cock, you weren’t doing anything, he did it all for you, letting you enjoy as much as you could. His manspreading position was such a turn on, his lower back sliding down the chair with you on that lap, trying to sit straight, Gojo’s back was not then touching the leather behind him, looking for more support. Low whimpering slipping out of your lips, moaning so purely and dirty at the same time, his cock filling you up so good it fit almost perfectly, it rammed inside actually, but he’d make his way into you, shaping you into perfection, into his.

“So cute,” He praised, wondering how your cheeks could warm even more. “so fucking cute, so pretty, fuck.” Your walls suffocated him at each thrust, making it harder for the man to breath, trying so hard to look calm, groaning low whining from time to time.

You looked close to devastation.

“Can’t believe I wasn’t the only one to, to see you like this.” Your eyes staring back at his blue ones, slightly furrowed eyebrows was what you could see on his face, as well as parted lips, soft and glistening lips. So suddenly you had felt his large hand wrap around your neck, choking you not softly yet not harshly, warming you up while he slowed down his thrusts. “Wonder how many guys fucked you already, such a pretty girl, I fucking hate it.”

His voice lowered, intimidating, arousing, deadly.

“How I wish I could have fucked your little virgin pussy. I’ll fuck you so hard it’ll, it’ll feel like your first time.” Again, unexpectedly his hand grabbed your slightly chubby cheeks. “I’ll ruin you, baby.” It was terrifyingly thrilling, even though those words should make you feel scared, you loved it, you felt safe, you wanted more.

“No, sensei, sensei.” Yet you denied to yourself, having the man kiss your neck and shoulders like before, with even more hunger, biting the area near your clavicles. Tears forming on your eyes from being so close to the edge, one of his thumbs making it even more challenging to hold it all in by circling your sensitive and aching clit so gently. He chuckled at your struggle.

“Gonna cum already?”

“No, not at all.” You whined, closing your mouth shut, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, holding onto his shirt with eyes shut.

“So I can be harsher with you then?” Such a brusque thrust, such a pretty humming whiny moan came out of you, it melted his heart. “Fuck.” Your toes curled, your legs shivered and tried squishing together, your heart beat fastened quickly, your head buried on his neck, your crying.

“What about now? Wanna, wanna cum, sweetheart?”

“Hm, hmy-yeah, yeah.” You finally became fully submissive to him, knowing you were drunk out of pleasure, not thinking straight, his thrusts became sloppy for a bit. “G-Gojo.” You moaned out unconsciously, having his heart skip a beat and a lovely pound find your sweet spot which led you to immediately go crazy.

It was pure pleasure. It was lustful. It was dirty. It was sacred.

Your entire body squirmed and legs shook, you hugged his large figure, whining muffling and failing as seconds went by.

“Fuck, fuck darling.” Were the last words you heard before you blacked out for a long second, noticing such comforting warmth filling you up real good, as if it never ended. You effortlessly sat straight, staring at him again, seeing such a beautiful man that had hearts in his eyes. Both breathing heavily, lungs collapsing. He lifted your trembling waist, longing for the presence of his cock inside you as cum literally emptied out of you, mixing with your own love juices, dripping from your destroyed cunt to your legs and dirtying his chair and pants but it was worth it, after all he couldn’t look away.

“You look so good with my cum dripping out of you.”

fxshigurosbae © please do not upload my content on any platform

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[get-shiggy-with-it]

Ch. 2

Shigaraki Birthday Celebration! 18+ MINORS DNI

Pairing: Tomura Shigaraki x fem!reader 

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: reader is marked fem cause Tomura is a little sexist and hates you cause you’re a woman, no pronouns, incel!shiggy, collage au/no quirks, tomura is an asshole, gratuitous swearing, like so much, shiggy has a dirty mouth, mentions of shigs being anxious, brief male masturbation, tags will be added for smut in the next two parts

Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3 | Ch. 4 | Ch. 5 | Ch. 6

Summary: In which studying is done, unwilling connections are made, and Tomura thinks about the way you smell a totally normal amount. 

AO3 mirror

Taglist: @dillybuggg​ (just shoot me an ask if you want to be tagged!

Tomura hadn’t stopped staring at his phone since he left the apartment. It was second nature by now—head down at a nearly ninety degree angle, hoodie pulled up to hide hair he hadn’t bothered to comb in weeks, and phone out, held just far enough away that he could see the pavement behind the screen. 

He’d found that people tended to naturally avoid him this way and he didn’t have to risk accidentally making eye contact. It was still a bit nerve wracking to venture into buildings he didn’t expressly have to for classes, so he was still hesitant to make the voyage from his apartment to the library.  But he’d made the mistake of mentioning plans to his roommate and the bastard wouldn’t leave him alone about it afterwards until he was practically shoved out with the door locked behind him. 

He was half tempted to make up some excuse last minute and go hide out at the only cafe on campus he could tolerate, but Tomura knew he was just delaying the inevitable. Biting the bullet now would help to not prolong his suffering. 

Your text thread glared up at him in stark white on blue as he pushed past a crowd of students by the library entrance and flashed his ID to the attendant. 

Group Project Bitch:

— hey I got us a room on the third floor, all the way in the back

—text me when you’re here I’ll wave you in, it’s kinda hard to find T-T

                                                                                                     sounds good— 

He shot off a quick text to you that he was hoping on the elevator. The other two guys in the lift may have given him a dirty look for only going up to the third floor, but Tomura sure as hell wasn’t going to risk the physical exertion of stares when just the thought being stuck in a small room alone with you for god knows how long already had him sweating. 

When he stepped out, you were leaned against one of the 90s-green shelves, scrolling aimlessly through your phone. He panicked momentarily, thinking he’d have to get your attention cause just walking up without saying anything would be weird right? 

He wasn’t sure. 

He didn’t do shit like this. 

Thankfully, you looked up at the chime of the lift and waved him over. His red sneakers squeaked as they scuffed the linoleum floors and he already regretted choosing his tighter fitting pair of sweats. The tapered legs that hugged his ankles and thin calves rubbed against his skin and stung the raw patches. 

“Hey, thanks for coming,” you said softly and he nodded, following as you began to weave through the stacks. “Sorry it was short notice, graduation’s coming up so I'm swamped with meetings.”

“It’s fine, I didn’t have anything going on.” 

He cringed internally at the way his voice cracked, trying to keep the usual rasp to a minimum. His roommate said it was from the innumerable hours he spent shouting at his monitor or on discord, which was probably true but to you he was sure he just sounded like a fucking teenager. 

“Cool, I’ve been set up for awhile so feel free to move some stuff,” you talked a bit louder now that you’d both stepped into the study room and shut the door. 

Tomura looked around. You’d snagged one of the nicer ones at least, with the big monitors he could cast his screen onto and those comfy chairs he liked but could never beat anyone too on the lower floors. 

You were right, there was shit all over the big table at the center of the room. Notes and printed out readings with highlights galore and sticky notes littering the pages were scattered all over. What a show off. You probably tossed all this stuff out so he’d think you were actually intelligent or some shit. 

Kicking a pile off of the nearest plush armchair, Tomura took a seat and pulled his laptop out. There was a jack in the middle of the table and you plugged yours in to cast onto the big monitor. 

You made a fucking power point for him. 

This couldn’t be real. 

“So I know I ran some stuff by you in class but essentially I was thinking we make like a simple Twine type thing using the rhetorical argument Swift is making…” 

You started rambling again and Tomura almost immediately tuned you out. His eyes drifted between the rough outline you were flicking through on the board and the laptop you had your nose buried in. 

It was covered in stickers, pretty obviously stereotypical for someone as obsessed with being ‘cool’ as you clearly were. But as he scanned through the various old meme phrases and aesthetic shit, he caught a couple of game references he recognized and a panel cutout from one of his favorite manga. 

He almost fell into your trap for a moment, feeling a rush at the prospect of someone—much less a chick—being into his main hyperfixations. 

But it was quickly crushed under everything his years trolling subreddits had taught him. People like you didn’t actually have interests beyond the attention and dick it got them. Plus that manga was pretty popular anyway, you probably didn’t even read it, just thought the line was funny or made you sound quirky. That had to be why you felt the need to drop it in your first texts. 

“What do you think?” you asked, making good on your new habit of startling the hell out of him. 

Tomura blinked, gaze instinctively turning to you but the blatant way you stared made his mouth turn to sand paper, so he looked resolutely back at the color-coded bullet points on the screen. 

“Look’s fine,” he mumbled. 

The more he glanced over it, the more it actually did look fine. A bit more than fine, really, which pissed him off even more. The little choose-your-own debate style story was not a terrible way to make fucking Whatever Swift interesting and it kinda looked like you’d bothered to google some simple coding which gave him a better idea of what you were looking for. 

It was...good. 

And that so fucking annoying. 

Well, he wasn’t sure if annoying was the right word for it, but the proposal coupled with your apparent lack of disgust at working with him made his face hot and that only ever happened otherwise when his roommate left the dishes out for weeks or when some newb on his server fucked up their raids. 

Then, you had the audacity to plop down in the chair next to him and— 

“You can tell me to fuck off if you want,” you began, shuffling in the chair to cross your legs on the cushion, “but I was hoping you’d be willing to show me how you do some of the coding stuff? I tried on my own, but I have literally no clue what I’m doing.” 

He could smell you again, like the whole fucking health and beauty aisle at the grocery store. When he turned his head a bit to look at you around the curtain of his hair, you were crooked—back against the armrest and facing him. 

“Why do you want to know?” he asked, sounding a bit less rude than he would have liked to. 

You just fucking stared right at him though, didn’t wrinkle your nose at how greasy his roots were or how he was wearing the same hoodies as yesterday. 

“I’ve always been interested in it, but my program is kinda stressful and I don’t have much free time so I never learned,” you offered and for once Tomura found he didn’t feel his skin crawl under your unwavering gaze. 

The dry, cracked area around his eyes burned though as sweat beaded on his forehead and he quickly wiped at his face with a loose sweatshirt sleeve. The garment hung off his shoulders, bought a size too big that he never ended up growing into. 

“What’s your major?” 

He found the words slipped easily from him. It was the quintessential question you asked of anyone in college when you met, but he’d never been interested in the answer before. 

You babbled a bit about your specific area of study and your voice was surprisingly not as infuriating as he remembered it being before. It was softer, he thought, than when you were soapboxing in class about the sexist implications of old as fuck poetry—it had a less grating quality and was almost pleasing to the ear. 

Or Tomura would have said that if he thought you deserved the compliment. 

But, obviously you didn’t. 

So he didn’t. 

He just pretended to care about what you were saying and didn’t hang onto every word at all. Actually he was more enraptured in the way your lips moved when you talked. You used your hands a lot too, but his eyes were ensnared on the way your mouth quirked and dipped, at the occasional flash of your tongue between strong teeth. When he leaned in a bit, he could smell your breath too: fruity gum and the remnants of whatever you were always drinking in that loud as fuck cup. He wondered now what exactly it was, so he could buy it and get a better idea of what you mouth might taste—

Nope. 

No, see this was exactly what he wasn’t supposed to be thinking about. How were you doing this to him? What a fucking slut. 

Tomura steeled his nerves as you started explaining the extracurriculars you did on the side. 

“My roommate freshman year actually started a gaming club and so I’ve gotten more into that over the years,” you explained, pointing at the stickers on your laptop case. 

“Are you talking about The League?” 

“Yeah, I didn’t know if you’d heard of it,” you shrugged.  

He knew of the gaming club on campus. He’d thought about joining when he enrolled but the allure of anonymity online gaming provided was too strong. Plus his discord server didn’t have annoying weekly meetings. 

The thought of you, up late and illuminated by the blue light of a tv screen, tucked away in one of the basement rooms in the media building was...strange. It also prompted an array of new images—you in those fucking cat ear headsets, seated in his lap as he trashed you in Mario Kart which was even stranger. 

Tomura had to physically shake his head to dislodge the thought. 

“Uh, we should probably work on this right?” he cringed at the way his voice cracked compared to your own, smooth tone. 

You should narrate those fucking sleepy time mediation things. His roommate used to hide wireless speakers in his room and blast those when Tomura stayed up too late. It was annoying as shit then, but if it was you talking, he probably wouldn’t have minded so much. 

Or no, no he would definitely mind. 

Yes. It would have been worse if anything. 

“Oh shit, you right. It’s been like two hours.” 

He glanced down at his laptop and saw that it had, indeed, been two hours since he got there. He’d willingly spoken to you for two goddamn hours. It felt like no time had passed at all, but the sun was definitely setting, the overhead fluorescent bulbs taking over as the main light source in the room. 

Weird. 

So you settled back in your chair, typing away like you always did, but the sound wasn’t nearly as frustrating as before. Occasionally, you’d glance over his shoulder and ask questions about what he was working on, but mostly the two of you settled into a comfortable silence. 

This pattern continued for the next few weeks. As the weather warmed, you began to show a bit more skin. He never worked up the nerve to comment on the thick expanse of bare thigh that tapered off nicely into your calf, or the curve of your arms not hidden behind knit sweaters—hell even your fucking shoulders were hard not to look at. 

Maybe all those high school dress codes weren’t actually so full of shit after all. Cause he was definitely distracted by the way your neck swooped into the exposed skin of your shoulder and down your back on more than one occasion.

Did all girls know that? Was it some kind of massive conspiracy to crumble the patriarchy or some crap to go flashing bare shoulders everywhere? 

Regardless if you really were trying to hypnotize him into liking you, Tomura stayed resolutely in his monochrome, long sleeved attire, and if you noticed the behavior you never said a word. 

Never said a word about his allergy ridden skin, peeling lips or scarred throat. Never commented on his terrible posture or said his eyes were creepy. Even when he’d occasionally toss a negative remark your way, you never retaliated maliciously. Just brushed him off with a jovial ‘don’t be a dick’ and a playful, but hard slap to his chest or the back of his head. 

The two of you always met in the same, secluded room on the third floor. You’d talk with him in class sometimes or shoot him texts about random bits of inspiration or a late night game memes, but for the most part, your conversations were confined to that room. He found he preferred the study room ‘you’ best. You weren’t as stiff. There was more of a solidity to you, like he’d seen when you told off that Kai bastard. 

It...grew on him. 

He was irrationally anxious that there would be a time when you couldn’t secure this particular room—with it’s big monitor and comfy chairs and less annoying ‘you’—but he’d been reassured after your third work session. 

Someone had knocked softly at the thick, wooden door and a head of wild, bright pink hair peaked around the crack. 

“Sup bro,” the intruder quipped, as they stepped fully into the room. 

“Hey, Spinner,” you mumbled back, looking up momentarily from the essay portion of your presentation before going back to typing. 

Spinner had seemed to notice him at that point and offered a small wave in his direction. “Oh hey, sorry, thought you were alone,” he said quickly. 

“Nah, this is Tomura,” you said, glancing up again and jerking your thumb in his direction. 

Tomura nodded and tugged at his hoodie strings to stop from scratching under the newcomer’s gaze. He’d gotten used to you, but other people still made him a bit nervous. 

“Nice to meet you,” Spinner had a nice smile, bright and flashy when he spoke. He leaned against the door and crossed his arms, looking around the room. “You got the nice one, huh. How’d you manage that?” he asked. 

“Yeah,” you half closed your laptop and stretched a bit. “Jin was working the front desk, so I’ve just been bribing him with vending machine snacks.” 

“He hasn’t gotten himself fired yet?” Spinner laughed incredulously, but not unkindly. 

“Surprisingly not, but he’s completely corrupt now,” you were picking at the cuticle of your thumb and Tomura fixated on the way the skin split off at the nail. Just like his. “A couple packs of chips and a Monster and I get the most bitchin study room whenever I want.” 

“Damn,” Spinner chuckled again and Tomura really wished that he’d leave already. He was beginning to feel himself fading into the upholstery as the conversation left him in the dust. The divergence of your attention away from him or the project was even more annoying that you were. “Well, are you coming to The League meeting tonight? We’re busting out a Smash tournament.” 

“That’s tonight?” you asked, eyes perking up but sliding subtly in Tomura’s direction. “Sorry, I think Tomura and I are gonna be working on this project for a while longer and I’m kinda burnt out. But next time, yeah?”

Spinner rolled his eyes but nodded and kicked off the wall. “That’s not very sexy of you,” he chided and waved a hand in parting. “Gonna work yourself directly into the fucking grave.” 

“Jokes on you, I welcome death.” 

You buried yourself in the screen again and Tomura actually felt a bit grateful for you ending the conversation before he got too painfully awkward. 

But Spinner stopped before he left, looking Tomura up and down from the frayed strings of his black hoodie to the tips of his worn red sneakers. 

“Nice to meet you, man,” he said with a wide grin. “Feel free to tag along next time if you want, we always need more players.” 

The door clicked softly shut behind him and Tomura relaxed back into the silence.

He did end up tagging along—though he spent most of the time hanging off your heels like a lost puppy—to the next meeting of your gaming club and the one after that. Frustratingly enough, he learned that your interests did also extend into skills as you almost bested him in a few rounds Smash. Your profile, lit only by the flashing screen lights, was even more striking outside of his imagined imitations. 

So much so that it found its way into his head late at night when he was too tired to log onto his server. So much so that it had his cock growing firm and tenting his grey sweats without even the visual aid of his go to porn clips. So much so that sometimes, he felt inclined to do something about the throbbing between his legs. So much so that he thought about the way you picked the skin by your fingers. How it looked like his. How your hand might feel like his but softer. Smoother around the edges. With your sweet voice whispering in his ear, making him whine and pant and spill white ropes of release onto his stomach. 

But it was only because you were hot. 

And you were practically begging for him to jack off to the thought of you with those outfits and liking all the shit he liked and noticing when he shrunk away from conversations or including him in them when he started to feel that awful sense of fading into the background. 

Yeah. 

Everybody jerks it sometimes to their group project partners if their ass is nice enough. 

Right?

[cotccotc]

genre/s: felix x barista!reader (gender neutral), fluff, angst, coworkers to lovers au, bakery / barista au (feat. baker / bff!minho, (strict) manager!chan, barista!jeongin, and baker!seungmin)

wc: 6.9k 😎

warnings: many mentions of food (specifically sweets such as cupcakes, brownies, cookies, etc.), some swearing, arguing, probably very poor editing oops <3

a/n: this is part of the @districtninewriters​​ “dear skz, with love” event :D THIS IS ALSO THE LONGEST FIC I’VE EVER WRITTEN AHHH i’m really really proud of it !!! i hope u love it besties !!!!!!!!

it was a frostbitten february evening when you met the boy at the bakery.

you were seated upon the counter, back turned to the deep brown door through which you’d first entered months ago, eager to apply for a barista position. minho sat across from you on the cashier stool. he was always better with the baked goods. you were a great team. the two of you were bored; a familiar feeling that accompanied weeknights at the bakery-cafe. people tended to arrive either in the morning time or late in the afternoon, and very seldom later. plus, your manager trusted the two of you enough to lock up on your own. and so, the two of you would be left to your own devices for a few measly hours a night per week.

“i bet you couldn’t make a batch of sugar biscuits without instructions,” he teased with a snarky grin. he was right. that was more his thing than yours.

so, you retaliated. “i bet you can’t do the same with a mocha frappe. or even simpler: an iced americano.”

“please!”

“oh yeah? step right up, biscuit boy,” you retorted with a giggle, gesturing to the coffee maker that sat beside him. there were multiple in the shop, and truth be told, he had no idea which was used for what types of beverages.

confidently, he grabbed a cup from the stack on the table behind him, striding over to one of the machines. he then took a look at all the knobs and buttons, clearing his throat. you chuckled. with his finger ghosting over one of the buttons, he turned back toward you to check for your reaction. “not even close,” you remarked. he clicked his tongue, turning back toward the coffee maker. “just a hint,” you added, “the first step isn’t coffee.”

he simply looked up, bewildered. he turned back toward you, dropping his hands to his sides and parting his lips into a circular expression of disbelief.

suddenly, the sparkling tone of the door chime behind you caught both of your attention. peculiar. nobody was usually around at that hour. as minho put his cup back on the table, you hopped off the counter, turning toward the front of the store.

in walked one of the most strikingly handsome boys you think you’ve ever seen. if not the most handsome. an angular face; fair, slightly pink-tinted skin decorated with the most endearing assortment of freckles. they were almost reminiscent of the chocolate sprinkles minho used to top off the cupcakes situated inside the glass counter case. his hair was a vanilla blond and long enough to delicately cascade over the side edges of his face. cherry red lips that parted upon his arrival, chocolatey brown eyes staring right back at yours. he was astonishing.

“how can we help you?” minho asked him, stepping forward. he couldn’t help but notice the way your eyes seemed to be bugging out of your head. he had to stifle a chuckle or two.

the boy’s eyes lingered on yours for a moment. or maybe you dreamed it that way. regardless, he walked up to the counter, inquisitively placing his hands behind his back and bent over to glance at the contents of the case. “hi! uh…” he seemed sweet, though his voice was much deeper than you’d expected. it was unique. he was unique. and in quite a rush, as well. “...shit,” he cursed under his breath. he seemed to have startled himself with his expression. he looked back up at you, then at minho, a tight-lipped smile and strawberry-pink blush appearing on his face. “sorry,” he said.

minho finally let out a chuckle. “no worries. what’re you looking for?” he was always so good with the customers. smooth yet considerate, witty, yet firm. you always aspired to be a little more like minho when it came to customer service.

“do you have any of the salted caramel cupcakes left? they seem to be gone.”

“ah, we seem to have run out of those. could i interest you in a peanut butter cupcake instead?”

the boy shook his head. “no… she likes caramel.”

she. there was a she.

“may i ask what the occasion is?” minho asked.

“it’s my mom’s birthday, and she’ll be home from work soon... hopefully. i would’ve made my own gift to her but i didn’t have the time…”

“enough said,” your coworker assured him. “does she like chocolate? we have a few salted caramel brownies in the back.”

he almost gasped. “that’s perfect!” he paused. “um… how much is that? i-is it more than the cupcake, or…?”

minho glanced through the glass at the tag beside the brownie tray. “nope. less, actually.”

the boy let out a short sigh of relief. “great. thanks so much.”

“ah, it’s nothing. one sec,” minho said before walking into the kitchen to grab the brownie from the fridge. an awkward silence ensued between you and the boy.

“a name for the order?” you blurted. dumbass, you thought to yourself.

“i’m… the only one in the store…” he replied.

heat rose to your cheeks. “i… um… it’s protocol-”

“felix.” he cut you off before you could embarrass yourself further. he could tell you were nervous.

a unique name as well. of course.

“coming right up, felix,” you murmured, a hint of sarcasm in your voice. both of you chuckled.

minho came back out to the counter holding a small blue box with the cafe logo on top. “you’re all set! that’ll be…” he pressed few buttons into the cash register before continuing. “ten thousand won.”

“perfect.” felix grabbed his wallet out of his coat pocket. he pulled out a few bills from the black leather case, handing them to minho with a small smile. he was excited to surprise his mother, and happy that it wouldn’t cost as much as he’d thought it would. and you found it adorable.

minho took the money, ringing felix up and inserting the bills into the register. he handed felix the box, which made the boy’s face light up even more. it was hard for you to suppress a similar countenance. “i hope she likes it. have a good night!” minho said, closing the register. he crossed his arms and leaned on the counter as felix waved to the both of you and began walking back toward the door.

“thanks so much. you too,” he said, giving minho a small bow.

with his hand on the door, he glanced back at you once more. you smiled. he returned the expression. and just like that, with a brief gust of cold air sweeping through the shop, the boy was gone.

“you, uh… you know we only take names when there’s a line, right?” minho teased as the door shut, the chime letting out what seemed to be a pitied laugh. 

you held your hands up to your forehead. “ugh, i know! i’m such an idiot,” you replied, letting your nerves go with a chuckle. he patted you on the shoulder, laughing with you.

in between laughs, he remarked, “he really made you that nervous, huh?”

“you could tell?! oh, great… wonderful!” 

the two of you carried on for a moment, making light of the otherwise mortifying exchange. but finally, minho glanced at the clock and asked, “would you mind locking up tonight? i’ve got a date.”

“ooh!” you cooed, taunting him. “a date... who’s the not-so-lucky lady?”

“what joke book did you get that one from, hm? i had no idea you even knew how to read!” you gave him a playful punch in the arm for his sarcastic dig, causing him to giggle. yet, he answered your question, saying, “it’s a girl i met on the train home from school the other night. chaeyoung.” he looked off to the side, seemingly entranced. “she’s really witty and smart… and gorgeous. like... gorgeous.”

“ah, yes… so gorgeous that it causes men to leave their posts… and friends…”

“if i bring you back some takeout, will you quit being an ass?”

you pondered the question for a moment. and, while you’d be bored as hell in his absence, closing up the shop wasn’t much of a hassle on weeknights… and, well, you could always go for a free meal. “...pleasure doing business with you, lee minho.”

“thank you. as with you,” he commented in return. he took off the periwinkle blue, involuntarily worn apron which you’ve both been made to wear, revealing what you hadn’t even noticed was a dressy outfit. well, dressier than usual. he’d opted for a pale blue button-up shirt, tucked into black skinny jeans, all tied together by a chic black belt and a pair of black loafers. not to mention the small silver hoop earrings and matching necklace. you had to admit, he did look dapper.

he quickly strode to the back of the kitchen at which there resided a small storage room where you and the other employees usually dropped off your belongings. he grabbed his backpack and put on his long black coat, quickly making his way back up to the counter and walking around to the front of the store. “catch you tomorrow! thanks again.”

“takeout! don’t forget!”

“i couldn’t even if i tried,” he retorted, opening the door. the two of you waved to each other before he took his leave. 

moments later, the door opened once again. you figured minho must’ve forgotten something. looking up, you began to ask, “what’d you forget this ti-”

it wasn’t minho.

it was felix.

he paused in his footing, little blue box still in hand. you jumped just a little. he noticed. “s-sorry… i just, um…” he looked off to the side. “i guess this is a bit of a long shot... considering the two of you seem to be more than enough staff… but…” he paused again, taking a moment to straighten his posture and scratch the back of his head. “is there any chance you might be hiring… any time soon?”

the answer was no. undoubtedly. he was right in thinking that you, minho, and the other employees were perfectly capable of handling the cafe. though some mornings and weekends were a bit tight, the team made it work. if this was anybody else, you could’ve easily said no.

yet, he persisted. “i can bake! i like to think i’ve been getting better at it… and i can clean as well.”

you couldn’t turn him down. you simply couldn’t. not with those kind eyes locking themselves with yours, the enthusiasm in his deep voice, or the hastening beat of your heart. “i’ll talk to my manager!” you affirmed. you smiled, causing a similar reaction out of him. an idea popped into your mind. if only for a moment, you thought it was the best you’d ever had. your eyes averted themselves to the pale yellow note pad and ballpoint pen on the counter, used to take orders from seated customers. “here,” you said, reaching for the pen and paper and handing it to felix. “if you’ll give me your number, i can text you with any updates.”

he walked back up to the counter for the second time that night, taking his number down on the pad. as you watched him intently, eyes fixated on his concentrated face, you silently praised yourself for being so brave. especially after the whole name debacle. your heart was at its wits’ end. “there,” he said, placing the pen down on the counter and sliding the notepad back to you. “i really appreciate it.” he sounded so genuine. he flashed you another smile. he had such a grand, bright, toothy smile. it would stay in your memory for days, weeks, even months to come. you can still recall it now.

“it’s no problem,” you responded. “...i really hope your mom likes the brownie.”

“thanks. i’m sure she will.” he turned to walk toward the door. you almost turned away as well, excited to examine the style with which he’d written on the pad, until he spun back around once more. “oh! one more thing… can i get your name as well?”

the question came as a bit of a surprise. you nodded to him, letting out a short giggle. “y/n.”

he grinned again. it was smaller that time; a bit more subdued. effortfully so. “ah. well…” he began walking backward, eyes connected with yours as he headed toward the door. “goodnight, y/n.”

“goodnight, felix.”

and thus, your pursuit for a job offering began.

your manager, chan, was reluctant to accept your proposal for him to give felix an interview. however, you made note of how eager he’d seemed that night and the skills he’d mentioned having. you also mentioned how he’d been so enthused to find out the price of his order. and so, after a couple days’ worth of mulling it over, chan finally gave in.

you weren’t supposed to be at the cafe when felix was being interviewed. however, your saturday afternoon shift had just ended, and the place was essentially empty. well… apart from you, chan, felix, and then jeongin, who wandered in from the storage room to find you eavesdropping from behind the wall separating the kitchen and the dining area. 

“y/n?” he asked. “what are you-”

you inaudibly shushed him, motioning for him to come closer and hide with you. he did so.

“chan’s interviewing someone,” you whispered to the boy.

“ah…” he responded, his tone hushed. “so why are we hiding?”

“because we’re not supposed to be listening.”

“so why are we doing it?”

“because i want to know how it’s going.”

“so why can’t you just-”

you shushed him again. he obliged, covering his mouth with his hand.

from the other side of the wall, chan asked, “so felix, do you have a resume?”

“uh…” felix stammered. you could hear the nerves in his voice.

“let me put it this way,” chan offered instead. “do you have any prior working experience? at another cafe, another store, a completely different place...?”

“oh! yes. i’ve bagged groceries at the supermarket on third street for the last few months. that’s where my mom works. but i’d much rather work here, if i’m honest...”

“ah. okay.” chan nodded, jotting down some notes in his notebook. “so y/n told me you could clean...”

before chan could finish, felix proudly exclaimed, “i can! i do a lot of cleaning at home.”

“perfect.”

the interview went on for a few more minutes. jeongin let out a few silent chuckles every once in a while, mocking your state of concentration. but who could blame you? you just wanted to make sure felix got the position. he seemed to need it.

you totally weren’t in it for his smile… the freckles… the adorable creases that formed at the edges of his eyes when he grinned with that sweet, genuine, toothy grin of his… no, not at all…

nevertheless, he got the job.

“i love this apron,” felix had said to you on his first day. he was quite fond of your uniform. everyone else in the shop hated them; what, with the pale blue color, white pinstripe pattern, and the ‘one-size-fits-all’ design. yet, in every sense of the phrase, it fit felix perfectly.

“i’m glad someone does,” you replied. he laughed.

“when i got the cleaning job, i wasn’t sure i’d get to wear one. but i’m happy i do.” he smiled at you, his pearlescent teeth on full display and face aglow with joy. 

after about a week of training, felix became a natural at his job. though it wasn’t much, he took great pride in his work and enjoyed taking any opportunity he saw to do a little extra sweeping, some more dish washing, and even some dusting here and there.

he also fit right into the employee dynamic. every once in a while, you’d find him playing hand games with jeongin. or, sometimes, minho would discuss baking with him, as he often noted his affinity for it.

“have you ever tried using oats in your chocolate chip cookies?” felix asked. it was monday night. and, as per usual, the shop was devoid of customers.

minho looked puzzled. “oats?”

“yeah. it adds a little nuttiness. it’s really, really good.”

“huh… i’ll have to try it out sometime. i like to add a bit of coffee grounds to the flour when i make mine.” then, he leaned in to whisper, “don’t tell chan, though.” felix let out a nervous giggle.

“don’t worry,” you said to him. “minho’s only kidding. i’d never let him touch my coffee grounds.” this made all three of you laugh.

after the laughter died down, felix looked at the clock. it was four in the afternoon. “well, my shift is over,” he said. you were disappointed. hanging out with felix had become a bit of a highlight for you. he always carried himself so kindly. he had a bubbly soul, and a pure twinkle took residence in his eye whenever he smiled. you couldn’t help but feel light and airy while around him.

“hey, i’ve been meaning to ask,” minho started to felix. “do you bike here?”

the other boy was confused. “no. why?”

“oh… then, do you walk?”

“yeah. it’s only a few blocks,” felix responded, shrugging.

“do you need a ride?”

felix paused to think. “don’t you need to stay here? to lock up and everything…”

“i’ll come right back.”

you chimed in, suggesting, “i can close tonight.”

“you sure?” minho asked you. “i don’t have any food to bribe you with this time.” you both chuckled.

“it’s fine by me,” you said.

minho thanked you, stating once again that he owed you. the amount of times you’d done this for him was countless. but you never seemed to mind. and so, off they went. you were glad felix had integrated into the friend group so well. you supposed that he was just that loveable.

when it finally came time for you to close up shop having not received any other customers for the night, you waltzed into the storage room to grab your things. however, you noticed something strange sitting atop one of the shelves that hadn’t been there that morning.

an envelope. with your name on it. and a tupperware container filled with a single slice of what looked like chocolate cake.

your heart flinched. you were shocked. flustered, flushed. confused… but endeared. you hesitated. shakily, you tore open the cream-colored envelope’s seal, careful not to rip too much. you wanted to preserve its crisp smoothness.

“y/n,” the note said...

“a gift to you,

a chocolatey treat,

a token of thanks

for being so sweet.

~ me”

your heart fluttered. you ran to the kitchen, opening the container and grabbing a freshly-cleaned fork from the metal sink. you dried it off on your apron before excitedly digging into the dessert. it was more of a brownie than a cake, you realized, with melted chocolate chunks stuffed inside. it tasted amazing.

you began wondering who this mystery gifter could’ve been. it couldn’t have been minho… it simply couldn’t have. the two of you were much too close. and he was always more confident than anybody you’d met. if he liked you, you would have already known. besides, things seemed to be going well with him and chaeyoung. no… this had to be someone else. jeongin, perhaps. he did always made such high praises about your cappuccino-crafting abilities. you looked to your left and right, peering around the kitchen for signs of life. but alas, you were all alone in the cafe. 

then it hit you.

of course...

felix.

you recalled the first time you met. when you had him jot his number down on the piece of paper. you remembered his handwriting; the way some characters curled on the ends, the rounded shape of his letter e, the squiggly line he used before he signed his name… it was felix. it had to be.

and you were ecstatic.

the next day, you entered the shop to find a full house. it was a saturday morning, after all. you enjoyed the breakfast rush, mainly because you got the chance to show off your coffee-making skills. you made your way to the kitchen, greeting jeongin at the counter on your way in. you said hello to minho and seungmin as well, who were busy stand-mixing and hand-folding various types of batter. they were a great team, especially on mornings like those. though they tended to bicker about ingredients and proportions, the sweet treats they’d concoct always turned out excellently.

finally, felix emerged from the storage area, duster in hand. when he saw you, however, he froze. with his eyes wide and cheeks beginning to flush, he greeted you. “h-hi, y/n… good morning!”

you let out a bit of a giggle. does he know that i know? you asked yourself. granted, the mysterious gift giver signed off as ‘me,’ so you couldn’t say you were positive… but this reaction told you otherwise. “morning!”

he nodded, smiling nervously. he gestured to the storage room. “the shelves in there are all dusted now.”

“great! i think i’ll… um…” you pointed to the room, slipping past him to stash away your belongings and put on your apron.

“yep! you… do that…” he muttered as you walked away.

however, when you walked in, you found something peculiar displayed upon the shelf.

another envelope. and another container.

you turned back toward the door to find felix peeking in. you chuckled. “so it was you!”

he stepped to the side, coming into full view. “how’d you know?” he asked.

“i just… had a feeling.” you grinned.

he paused, a tight-lipped smile spread across his face. “well, open it.”

you placed your coat and bag on one of the shelves below. you then opened up the envelope just like you had the previous night: meticulously, yet enthralled. it read,

“another dessert

for a person so sweet

will you honor me kindly,

and go out with me?

YES / NO

~ me”

once you looked back up at him, felix commented, “you were supposed to circle one…” he then began rambling. “i thought you didn’t come in until later. you don’t have to say anything right now, or at all, and-”

though you thought it adorable, you cut off his nervous prattle, stating, “yes.”

his eyes grew even wider, his strawberry tinted lips forming a circular shape. “you mean…”

“i’ll go out with you, felix,” you confirmed.

his face lit up. and yours did, too.

thus, one date became two, two became four…

by the end of february, you were officially a couple.

you were a perfect match. each of you complimented each other so well, rivaling the bittersweetness of a good cappuccino when paired with a light and fluffy slice of cake. like minho, felix’s baking abilities and knowledge never ceased to amaze you. you explained the ins and outs of coffee brewing while he told you all about how he bakes his tasty treats. he even showed you some of the recipes his mom handed down to him from generations past.

his mom sounded so wonderful… yet, a part of you felt so sorry for her. felix’s dad left when he was young, and she’s always had to fend for herself and her son all on her own. however, when she was let go from her office position the previous year, things began to spiral. she took up two jobs: one at the local grocery store and another waitressing at a restaurant in the next town. she was always so busy. but felix understood. he tried helping out, especially by working at the supermarket with her that fall. nothing seemed to get any better. 

that is, until he landed his job at the cafe.

felix constantly thanked you for helping him out. chan paid him a considerable amount more than what he’d received at the supermarket, which helped him and his mother out greatly. anything would. aside from telling how lovely, smart, witty, and gorgeous you were, felix’s mission in life was to remind you how you’d saved it.

one monday, you entered the storage room on your break to find a sight all too familiar. a handwritten note and small sliver of baked loveliness, all wrapped up in a metaphorical bow of allure and intrigue. nevertheless, however, you were still just as giddy as the first time you’d received one of felix’s treats. suddenly, you felt a finger graze along your shoulder, moving your hair to the side as an arm wrapped itself around your waist. two warm, pillowy lips made contact with your cheek, gently pecking the skin. felix.

you let out a giggle. “is this for me?” you asked, facetiously.

“of course,” he muttered beside your ear, his tone low, entrancing, and chill-inducing. he kissed your cheek again, holding you close and swaying you from side to side. “it’s another brownie. try it,” he suggested as his chin settled upon your shoulder.

you did as he said, biting into the small slice of fudgy goodness. to your surprise, chunks of melted caramel oozed out of the dessert, cutting through the rich chocolatiness of the brownie with a tangy edge. you hummed in satisfaction. “a salted caramel brownie,” you noted, swallowing your bite.

he chuckled. “i figured i’d finally try it out, maybe give some to my mom… do you like it?”

you placed the sweet back into its container and turned around in his arms, wrapping yours around his neck. you smiled. “i love it, lix. thank you.”

he grinned back at you. pulling you closer by the waist, he sealed the space between his lips and yours with a kiss. his lips were always even softer and more captivating than the texture of his confections. sweeter, too.

after his lips left yours, he gazed into your eyes, holding you close. “open the note, love.”

you excitedly spun back around, doing as instructed. opening the crisp white envelope seal and pulling out the folded sheet of paper, you read its contents.

“a caramel kiss

for you, my love.

i can’t give you the world.

but i hope i’m enough.

~ felix”

you paused. you were puzzled. visibly so, you figured, since when you turned around the look on felix’s face shifted.

he took your hand in his, rubbing small circles into the skin with his thumb. he kept his head down as he spoke. “i wish i could do more. i wish i could take you out to nice places, bake you batches of your favorite sweets, get you real gifts…”

a sharp pain struck your heart. “lix…” you murmured. “i don’t need any of those things. and as far as i’m concerned, these are ‘real gifts.’ they come from your heart. that’s as real as it gets.”

“i know, love, but…”

you placed a hand on his cheek, guiding him to look back up at you. “you don’t even have to do this stuff for me. i know that you care.”

he gave you a forced, shy smile. “okay. i’m glad.” he placed his own hand on top of yours, warm fingertips pressing gently against your skin.

“felix! y/n!” chan called from the kitchen. it was saturday night, and the last of the day’s customers were taking their leave. you were standing by the coffee-makers, in the middle of telling felix about the time you’d bested jeongin in a macchiato-making contest during a breakfast rush. 

both of you turned toward the kitchen door, concerned. chan poked his head out. “can you come here a minute?” he looked serious. something was wrong.

nevertheless, the two of you obliged. holding hands, you made your way to the kitchen, led by chan to the cooling racks. “what’s up?” you asked.

chan cleared his throat before shoving his hands into his pockets. “i have reason to believe that one of you, or both, has violated protocol.”

you quickly grew confused. felix’s hand tightened around yours. you glanced at him, noticing how his face flushed pale. “uh…” he stammered. 

“early this morning, seungmin pointed out that we’re low on cocoa powder. now, that’s odd, especially considering we had three cans of it yesterday. now we only have two.” you both nodded at him, following along. “...so i took a look at the camera footage.”

felix let go of your hand. “c-cameras?” he stuttered. you were even more confused.

“yeah. the cameras,” chan confirmed, looking felix dead in the eye. “i watched the footage from yesterday. and the day before.”

felix gulped. “you… you did….”

“what the hell is going on?” you asked.

chan let out a bit of a sigh. “y/n. were you aware that felix has been taking ingredients from the kitchen?”

your heart dropped.

you glanced at your boyfriend. he glanced back at you. he then bit his bottom lip, averting his eyes down to the floor. you looked back at chan, calmly answering, “no… i had no idea.”

“is that true?” chan asked.

“yes.” you then turned to felix, face ablaze. “it’s true.”

“then in that case, you can go for the night. i’d like to talk to felix. alone.”

after one last unreciprocated look at your boyfriend, you quickly rummaged through the storage room, collected your things, and left. you stood outside of the cafe, waiting for whatever might happen next. your stomach was doing flips. you couldn’t possibly believe what you’d heard.

minutes elapsed. it felt more like hours. all you could think to do was lean up against a lamp post and watch the gloomy clouds shift overhead. the sun was close to being fully set, casting a deep purple tint over the whole street landscape. and it looked as though it was about to rain.

after what felt like an exorbitantly long time, felix emerged from the shop. the door closed behind him as he bolted down the steps and onto the pavement, that familiar chime sending a chill through you. it sounded almost eerie that night. out of place. taunting.

“lix,” you called. you walked behind him, despite his quickening pace. but he wouldn’t stop or slow down. “lix,” you exclaimed again. no answer. finally, you grabbed his arm, realizing his apron was gone, and shouted, “felix! slow down.”

he scoffed, stopping dead in his tracks. “he fired me.”

you stared at him, blankly. once again, you couldn’t believe it.

“i tried to do something nice, and he fired me.”

“do you think it makes me feel any better?” you asked. “you getting yourself fired so you could make me little brownie experiments?” you paused, taking a deep breath. you were outraged. more so with yourself. you should’ve asked how he was finding the time or the resources to be doing what he was doing. you should’ve known. “i thought you needed this job. when were you gonna tell me you were a thief?”

“a thief?!” felix’s eyes seemed to be bulging out of his head. he was surprised at your verbiage. he’d never seen you upset like this. “y/n, i’m not a thief.” you rolled your eyes. his cheeks flushed crimson. a prickling sensation began around his eyes. a stinging, almost. tears. he looked down at his sneakers. tattered white converse. the same ones he wore every day to work. the same ones on which he’d splattered a few droplets of brownie batter during his latest attempt at making you a gift. now, it just looked like a stain of mud. “i didn’t just take cocoa powder. i took eggs… some milk… a couple cups of flour here and there… my mom got demoted at the restaurant. she works the bar now. she thinks i asked for the stuff. so yeah, i did need this job! i do need it. i just fucked up...” under his breath, trying not to give into the tears that prodded at his eyes, he remarked, “‘little brownie experiments’... that’s all they ever were to you? little brownie experiments...”

you realized what you’d said. of course that’s not all they were to you. they were everything to you. but that isn’t what you’d said. “lix… i-”

“you know what, you’re right,” he muttered, shifting his weight back and forth on his feet, hands clasped behind his back, and eyes rapidly blinking to avoid the inevitable. “they probably weren’t even all that good.”

you took a step closer to him. a drop of water fell onto your shoulder from above. “no.. no, that’s not what i-”

but, as quickly as you approached him, he stepped back. he locked eyes with you once again. his eyes were glossy; tainted with the aftereffects of a broken heart. suddenly, a steady stream of drizzling rain began to fall from the night sky above you. felix’s lip quivered. yet, with a furrowing brow, he continued. “you know what, maybe this was all a mistake.” his voice cracked a bit; frayed at the edges. “maybe i should’ve gotten a different job. at a place that would pay me enough to be able to buy my own shit and pay my mom’s bills.” the rain fell harder now, coating his hair and dragging it down over his face. you didn’t even feel it as it completely drenched you as well.

seeing him like this affected you just as much as your words did him. guilt. the panging, crushing weight of guilt laid heavily upon your heart. “felix…” you whimpered, tears of your own beginning to cloud your line of sight. though, you could still see clear enough to watch him shake his head, turning around and beginning his ascent up the avenue. clear as ever. even despite the pitter-patter of evening gloom.

sopping wet, you marched back into the shop. you ripped off your apron, throwing it down upon the counter. you then walked back behind it to start preparing to close up for the night. all you wanted was to go home.

that is, until you spotted an envelope tucked beside the cappuccino maker.

a creamy white envelope, with your name and a heart inscribed on the back. and a tupperware container. a single teardrop descended from the corner of your eye, resembling the droplets of rain that covered your form. you carefully took hold of the envelope. you gently tore it open, making sure not to rip it, just like you’d done the very first and subsequent times.

“another present

for my love;

my dear y/n,

sent from above.

~ felix”

a drop of rain fell from your hair onto the page, dampening his name. the black ink began to run, the letters seeping into each other.

you could no longer control your tears. you took a seat on the floor, back resting against a leg of the table upon which the coffee makers stood. the metal was cold. but you paid it no mind. with your head on your knees, legs bent and arms wrapped around them, you cried. audibly. you couldn’t believe how you’d spoken to him. you should’ve known that he didn’t have the money to bake you these little presents on his own. you should’ve realized from the moment he confirmed it was him. at least, that’s what you thought to yourself as the tears expelled themselves from your system. 

he just wanted to make you something special. yes, he broke the rules. yes, he stole from the cafe. and yes, he knew it was wrong. but he just wanted to make you something special. it was the only way he believed he could. and you wish you’d seen that. not just so you could’ve prevented it, but also so you could’ve appreciated it even more. so you could’ve seen that not only was he working overtime to make you something you might enjoy, but that he was risking his job for you and his mother. it wasn’t a perfect gesture - not by a long shot. but he meant well. he always did. and you didn’t even give him the chance to explain.

you loved him.

after a few moments of solitude, you regained your breath. you sniffled, looking down at the note. you then stood back up, taking hold of the container. its contents looked delicious. but you couldn’t consume it. not even if you’d been hungry. so, you dumped it into the trashcan beside the table. and, with a deep, shaky breath, you ripped up the letter and envelope into tiny pieces. it was a bittersweet feeling, letting go. but you had to do it. and so, home you went.

a week passed. things never really changed at the cafe once felix left. weeknights were still as slow as ever. maybe even slower. you missed him.

minho emerged from the kitchen one evening to find you wiping down the cappuccino maker with a coffee-stained rag. it was the third time you’d done it that day. twice more than you were getting paid for. and of course he noticed. “how’re you holding up?” he asked.

you barely glanced up at him, busy rubbing the same spot on the metal machine over and over. this stupid stain just wouldn’t budge. each time you’d gone over it that day, you couldn’t seem to make it go away. it plagued your mind, infiltrating your subconscious when you least expected it until you finally decided to go back to it for the second time, then the third. it was a real mood killer. though your mood hadn’t been very lively when the day began, either. “‘m fine,” you replied through gritted teeth, brows angled inward as your focus remained on the task at hand.

“are you?” he questioned, playfully. he leaned on the counter behind you, crossing his arms and watching you scrub. “you’ve been going at it with that thing for hours now. what’d it ever do to y-”

“i’m fine!” you interjected. you then paused, both in speech and action. suddenly, you were aware of how fast you’d been rubbing the machine. as well as how loud your voice had raised itself. you turned around. “...sorry.”

he gave a pitied smile, crossing his arms. “it’s ok. i’m fine,” he replied, mimicking you. it made you chuckle. he was glad it did. “is, uh… is this a bad time to ask you to lock up? i’ve got a.. uh…”

“a date?” you supposed, unfeeling.

he cleared his throat, glancing between you, the clock above you, and his shoes. “yeah,” he confirmed. “with chaeyoung. would you mind?”

“not at all.”

“you sure?” you nodded. “alright… i owe you one… or ten...” he joked, untying his apron.

“no you don’t,” you murmured, eyes drifting to the side. you almost turned back around, heart set on getting to that stain, until you felt his hand on your arm. you glanced at each other for a moment. he looked sad. sorry. he pitied you. and you hated it. yet, as he took you in his arms, wrapping you into a tight, benevolent hug, you became a little less tense. a little less angry. you hugged him back, burying your face into his shoulder. this was the first time you’d ever engaged in such a gesture with your coworker. sure, you were friends. and sure, you’d talked about some deep stuff on nights like these with nothing better to do. but this was different. meaningful. sweet.

after a moment, minho remarked, “you know i miss him too, right?” he sounded mockingly peeved. “he was your boyfriend but he was my friend.”

you looked up at him, confused. “you’re not still friends?”

he chuckled. “no! he’s avoiding me the same way he’s avoiding you.”

laughing with him, you responded, “shit… i’m sorry, minho.”

“you have nothing to apologize for.” he let go of you, hands remaining on your sides for a moment. “you both messed up. it’s not all your fault.” you nodded to him, a reluctant, close-lipped smile upon your face. he glanced up at the clock again before pulling his apron off. “i’ve gotta go. thanks again for locking up, y/n.” he walked past the counter to the front of the store. “i’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?” he added, pointing at you while striding backwards toward the door.

“see you tomorrow,” you replied, waving to him. “have fun.” you still sounded a bit bitter. you couldn’t help it.

“thanks,” he said. the chimes twinkled as the door closed. it haunted you.

and with that, he was gone. nothing but you, your rag, and that unnerving coffee stain for another half-hour’s time.

you heard the opening and closing of the door behind you once again. with a sigh, not even bothering to turn around, you blurted, “we’re about to lock up for the night.”

no response. odd. maybe they didn’t hear you. you tried again, raising your voice a bit but continuing your attempts to clear up the stain all the while. “i apologize, but we’re closed for the night-”

“one salted caramel brownie, please.”

a familiar voice. a familiar, low-toned, nostalgia-inducing voice. the voice that, at one time, softened for you… close enough to your ear to make your stomach tie itself in knots. the voice that made you giggle, the voice that called you “love”... the voice that cracked when faced with the realization that it was never to be heard by you again. you spun around.

a familiar face, too.

felix.

his eyes gazed into yours. somber, silent.

“y-you...”

“hey.”

tags: @magglesx, @crscendoforsung, @stayndays, @hanniiesuckle17, @leggomylino, @freckledberries, @pixielix, @skzctnightnight, @serenityswords-main​, @childofthecosmos, @changbinniee​, @kpopscape​, @skzwriternet, @hyunsins, @sleepylixie, @ncityluvvs, @vera-liscious (send a 🍓 in my ask box to be added for skz !)

©️ cotccotc 2021 ~ all rights reserved. do not repost my work on tumblr or other platforms.

[eirist]

Little Bits and Pieces of Heaven

OTANJOUBI OMEDETOU!

One-shot #: 28

Disclaimer: One Piece (and its characters) belongs to Eiichiro Oda-sensei.

Reminder: I have no beta-reader. Any grammatical and spelling errors are solely mine.

Warning: OOC possible. One shot.

Rating: T

Note: This was supposedly for Nami’s birthday last year but I didn’t get to finish it on time. Not that I did as well this year. But I don’t want to drag this for another more year or so. And since it’s still July, I figured I can still make it work. Better late than never right?

This is for @redpakwan​. AU setting. College zeitgeist. Yet super late. Forgive me. I hope you still enjoy this.

The omedetou in the last part actually has two meanings. In case you are familiar with the Japanese language, you’ll get the implication. *winks*

Summary: All of their friends are present at the party tonight! Even those who she barely knows and acquainted with her only through common friends. Yet Zoro who was supposedly close to her, wasn’t here!

“Ssshhhh! Quiet now!”

Usopp shushed the fidgeting and whining Luffy beside him.

“Quit squirming like an ant is biting your butt!”

“But Usopp…” the black-haired lad bemoaned. “It’s taking too long. I’m starving!” His stomach made a rumbling sound and a horrified expression crossed Usopp’s face.

“Shut up. Just wait for a few more minutes!”

“I can’t! I can smell all the meat that Sanji cooked!” A drool dropped down the side of Luffy’s mouth. “I can’t resist anymore!”

“Oi! Can somebody put a fucking gag on that moron’s mouth?” Sanji hissed somewhere from behind them. He had pushed the swinging door leading to the kitchen (where he was hiding) open to glare at them. “He’s gonna ruin our surprise!”

“Sanji! I can’t wait anymore!” Luffy shouted from his hiding spot.

“Aho! Don’t you dare move from that spot or I’ll tie you to a chair and make you watch us eat all the meat you specifically requested that I cook!”

“Demo…”

“Uruse!”

“Shhh! Quiet down guys!” Franky called out from beneath the bar counter. “She’ll be here any minute now!”

“Usopp,” Sanji drawled, throwing a handkerchief at the curly-haired lad. “Gag him if needed.” He nudged his chin at the boy beside Usopp, who was pouting at being denied food.

“But he bites,” Usopp complained even as he caught the hanky.

“We all have to make sacrifices...”

“Damn you!”

“She’s already here.” Robin announced from her position at the bar’s window. The raven-haired woman was acting as their lookout. “She’s about to cross the street,” she added before sauntering away from her location to join Sanji in his hiding place.

“Robin-chwan,” the cook greeted suavely as he opened the door wider to let the older woman inside. Then he turned and barked at the others. “All of you quiet down now! Anyone who makes any shitty noise will not be allowed to touch any of the food!”

“But, San—mmph!” Luffy opened his mouth and Usopp promptly shoved the small cloth inside.

“Everybody shut up and get ready!”

The bar door opened with a soft tinkling sound.

“SURPRISE!!!” They all shouted simultaneously as they popped out of their respective hiding places… well except for Luffy, who had to spit out the handkerchief in his mouth.

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY NAMI!!!”

The sound of confetti poppers exploding alongside the hoots of party horns and lots of clapping and cheering immediately followed the greeting.

It was Nami’s birthday. And they had planned a surprise party for her at their group’s favorite bar. It had been a real challenge to pull it off since everyone was busy preparing for the university’s ‘hell week’—those torturous days before the summer break officially starts.

Plus, it was kind of hard to keep it hush-hush since some people in their circle are terrible secret keepers (namely Luffy).

But somehow they did. And Nami—as sharp as she is—didn’t have any inkling on what was going on, given the way her eyes widened and her mouth dropped open.

“Ah ma cherie!” Sanji crooned as he twirled across the room, kneeling down on one knee in front of the newcomer. He presented a heart-shaped cake with flourish—with all the candles lit up. “Otanjoubi omedetou!”

Nami looked genuinely astounded as her brown eyes wandered at the grinning faces of her friends.

She blinked a few times and her lower lip quivered slightly. “You guys…” she whispered, bringing a hand to cover her mouth.

For a moment, she looked like she was going to cry.

Then her face broke into a largest smile.

“Minna! Arigatou!!!” She squealed, clapping her hands together delightedly.

The loud hoot of the party horn filled the room as Franky blew on it again before bellowing, “Supeeer Happy Birthday Nami!!!”

That signaled another round of applause and shouted greetings as the well-wishers approached Nami to greet her up close.

Sanji—who remained kneeling on one knee before her with her birthday cake—nearly got shoved to the side by Luffy and Usopp as they both sprang towards the orange-haired girl to give her a hug.

“Oi temee you idiots!” Sanji shouted. He was barely able to save the cake from the two morons.

But the two were oblivious to his swearing as they launched into a rather off-key happy birthday song, which the others soon followed.

Nami winced slightly as Usopp and Luffy belted out the song just right at her ears. They were saved from her punches by Robin approaching and placing a party hat around her head.

“Happy birthday Nami!” The older woman greeted and Nami grinned at her, holding the party hat with one hand and trying to shove Luffy and Usopp’s faces away from her.

“Thank you Robin!”

The birthday song ended rather exaggeratedly high and Nami tried very hard not to wallop both of her idiotic friends who had made it a contest to see who can sustain the last note longer.

“Enough! Both of you!” Sanji roared as he stood up and kicked Luffy and Usopp out of the way. He presented the cake to Nami again and said charmingly, “Nami-swan if you please.” He motioned to the cake he was holding. “The birthday girl has to make a wish first before blowing the candles.”

“Arigatou Sanji-kun,” Nami smiled at him and leaned forward, tucking a strand of orange hair behind her ear. She closed her eyes, silently stating her wishes before blowing the candles out.

“I hope you wished for your prince charming to—ooof!”

Luffy excitedly elbowed him out of the way to greet her again, almost toppling the cake off the blond’s hand again.

“Nami! Happy birthday!”

“Damn it Luffy!” Sanji desperately and comically tried to save the cake before it falls flat on the ground… and luckily succeeded.

Luffy ignored him and the ever-enthusiastic lad yelled. “It’s finally time to eat!!! Sanji serve the meat!”

“Aho!” Sanji bellowed and hit him in the head. “You nearly made me dropped Nami-san’s precious cake!”  

“Ooops sorry!”

Robin giggled as Nami smiled wryly. Even during her birthday these morons just can’t stop themselves.

“Alright you guys!” Usopp suddenly hollered from her side. “Start calling the others! Nami’s happy 23rd party’s about to start!”

Nami whacked him on the head… hard.

“I’m just twenty you idiot!”

-------------------------

It hadn’t taken long for the bar to be filled with guests. Almost all of their friends and colleagues from the university attended the celebration. Not to mention, those friends also brought their own pals to enjoy a night of overflowing free food and drinks.

Not that Nami minded. She knew most of them anyway. If not, her friends definitely knew them.

Plus, you can bet she’s gonna charge their freeloading asses anyway.

Her eyes roamed around the room, noting the individuals who were present. She was enjoying her beer at the bar counter and taking a break from all that socializing and thanking her birthday guests.

Usopp had taken the responsibility of acting as the DJ for the night. An upbeat music was now playing and Luffy’s attractive older brother Ace had taken over the dance floor with his buddies.

Brook has just arrived from his band practice and Luffy ran off to greet him. Sanji was busy flitting around the female guests, crooning and spewing praises at them while Robin and Franky were sitting near her and was chatting with the bar owner, Shakky.

She gave a small wave at Kid and Killer when she spotted them. Both raised their beer bottles at her—a sort of silent birthday greeting. She mouthed thanks just as Luffy’s attention went to them and he launched himself at the two men much to their chagrin. She wasn’t really that close to the two seniors students but they’re both in the same fraternity as Luffy and Zoro.

Speaking of Zoro… is he still not here?

A frown suddenly appeared on her face and it deepened when she noticed the beer coolers stocked near the kitchen doors.

“Hey,” she turned to Robin, Franky and Shakky who stopped talking. “Why do we still have so much booze?” Nami pointed towards the large, still filled with beer coolers. “Considering we have a lot of guests tonight and most of them are drinkers… I’m surprised we haven’t broken the fifth one yet.”

“Huh?” Franky lifted his sunglasses and gazed at her curiously, before shifting his eyes to where she was pointing. Nami really doesn’t get it why he still wears them indoors. She just dismissed it as one of his idiosyncrasies… they all have one after all.

“Is there a problem Nami-chan?” Shakky inquired with a smile.  

“Nothing. It’s just that… it’s nearing midnight and we still have that many,” Nami observed. “Hmm… never mind,” she waved her hand dismissively. “It’s probably just a slow night.”

“Maybe those guys are still warming up.” Robin observed Ace’s group and the Luffy’s fraternity acquaintances, who were all shouting and hopping on the dance floor. Good thing Luffy and Ace’s other brother, Sabo, is out of town. Or there’ll be chaos in that floor now.

Shakky leaned down the counter and propped her chin on her hand looking at Nami with a glint of amusement in her dark eyes. “It’s probably because Zoro-chan’s not here to start a drinking competition.”

Nami’s eyebrows disappeared behind her bangs. So that confirms it.

“Oh? He’s still not here?” she asked, trying to be casual about it—even if she already noticed that her green-haired friend was nowhere in her party. “Really? Of all days to be M.I.A?”

“He’s probably late just like Chopper,” Robin said with a soft smile, refraining from teasing the younger woman since it was her birthday. She had seen the disappointment flashed across Nami’s brown eyes earlier. It was for a fleeting moment but it is there.

“He better have a damn good reason why he’s not here,” Nami grumbled, folding her arms across her chest. The nerve of that guy, missing one of the most important days of her life.

“Just relax girly…” Franky winked at her as he handed her another bottle of beer to replace her empty one. “He’ll be here. This party’s compulsory and has booze after all.” He guffawed, opening another beer bottle for himself and taking a drink.

“Compulsory?” Nami repeated, cocking one eyebrow.

“Yep,” Franky nodded. “We made it mandatory for all invitees to attend so we’d have more heads. As we promised Shakky when she let us use her bar for your party’s venue.”

Shakky winked at her. “Once the supply beer runs out, you have no choice but to buy here.”

Nami snickered. “I’m surprised you even let them bring beers from outside.”

“Not really,” Robin chuckled. “Those are from Shakky’s as well.”

Said bar owner winked at Nami again.

“Damn,” Nami just shook her head disbelievingly. Shakky’s negotiation and money skills are way beyond awesome!

Franky grinned. “So let’s just wait for him. Besides, what’s a party without any drinking competition started by Zoro?”

Nami nodded her agreement even as she huffed. “He has to get his ass here first before anything else. Or I’m gonna start charging by the minute.”

Franky winced at that while Shakky and Robin giggled. Nami was notoriously known for her habit of charging outrageous amount of belis whenever she thinks the situation calls for it. Almost everyone in their circle owes her a certain amount that just keeps increasing as time goes by.

“Hey!”

Usopp suddenly appeared near them. “Got any more beers?”

Nami eyed him warily. “Weren’t you supposed to be on the other side playing songs and entertaining us?!”

Usopp made a face at her. “A guy could use a break you know. You’re not exactly paying me for my services.”

“I thought you said you’d do it free for Nami since it’s her birthday,” Robin reminded him as Franky went to the coolers to get him a drink.

“I did?”

Nami narrowed her eyes at him. “You still owe me my gift you idiot.”

A sheepish laugh escaped Usopp. “Well consider my dj-ing skills your present then.”

“Cheapskate.”

“Oi!”

“Here ya go long-nose,” Franky handed him his request.

“Thanks Franky!”

“Aren’t you going back there?” Shakky inquired as she lit up a cigarette.

“Nah. I’ll take a break.” Usopp answered. “I just auto-played a playlist. It’s not like those guys really care about what’s blasting on the speakers.”

He shifted his eyes towards the dance floor where the crowd was getting louder and rowdier. “Besides… I swear I’m not gonna be surprised if a fight breaks out in a few seconds.”

“Why?” Robin queried with an amused smile. “Too much testosterone?” As unruly as the guests may get… they wouldn’t dare or lest they acquire Shakky’s wrath and forever be banned in the place.

“More like too much Luffy.”

Everyone nodded in understanding.

“Thank Kami Zoro’s not here.” Usopp gushed. “One less of a headache.”

“You do know if he’s here someone can actually rein Straw Hat in?” Franky said matter-of-factly.

Usopp waved his hand dismissively. “I know that of course. Anyway… Zoro’s like really, really late isn’t he? Has anyone tried to call him?”

Both Robin and Franky shook their heads.

A horror-stricken expression crossed Usopp’s face. “Oh shit wait! Did someone inform him about today?!”

Nami eyes were sharp as they zeroed in at her curly-haired friend. “You didn’t tell him about today?”

Usopp looked guilty. “I think I forgot,”

Robin raised her hand. “I did tell him. And I’m pretty sure Luffy did as well.”

“Whew! Thank heavens for you Robin!” Usopp sigh in relief as Nami punched him on the shoulder.

“Ouch!”

Robin just smiled. “Luffy wouldn’t let Zoro miss Nami’s birthday of course.”

“Yeah. That’s why he isn’t here now. That moron.” Nami complained, glaring at Usopp who flinched under her gaze.

“Hey I said sorry,” Usopp rubbed the back of his neck. “He’s just been kinda busy lately it’s hard to catch him. Honestly, I haven’t seen him for like a week now.”

“That’s what cellphones are for you idiot,” Nami groused. “So you can send him a message to remind him of important stuff!”

“Like your birthday party?”

“Yes!”

“But Robin said she already told him,” Usopp whined. “So he should be getting his ass here by now. He’s a grown man after all.”

“Unless of course he got himself lost…” Franky reminded them. “Anyway well know if he’s here. Sanji’s been blissfully happy all night. Let’s just wait for his—”

There was a noise coming from the entrance as another group entered the bar. The sound of Chopper’s voice excitedly calling for their names got their attention.

From the looks of it, the medical students had just been released from Dr. Kureha’s clutches and they all headed straight to Shakky’s bar for the party.

“Oh wait there’s Kaya!” Usopp perked up when he spotted his girlfriend just right behind Chopper. “I’ll talk to you guys later.” And just like that he ran off.

Nami sighed inwardly. Of all days not to show up and it looks like Zoro will chose this one which means a lot to her. She had been looking forward to this day too. It’s always fun to see her friends try to make it fun and special for her in their own clumsy ways.

Especially Zoro.

Ever since they’d known each other, he never missed her birthday. It doesn’t matter if he had no gift for her… he always make it to a point to be one of the first to greet her.

And sometimes the last as well.

But today… she still hadn’t heard from him. No call… not even a message!

It wasn’t easy to miss. Not when you’ve been waiting for that particular person to greet you.

Nami squared her shoulders. Now is not the time for the birthday girl to be down in the dumps.

There’s still time before midnight after all.

------------------------

The party was already in full swing. The sixth beer cooler was already opened. There was a lot of drunken shouting, singing and dancing happening inside the bar. Nami was pretty sure that they’ll be seeing Luffy’s brother Ace dancing on one of the tables along with Franky any minute now.

Yet no tall, scowling, green-haired man made an appearance.

She glumly stared at the sprinkle-rimmed birthday martini in front of her. Shakky made it for her birthday. But neither the cute-looking, celebratory beverage nor its taste can make the sinking feeling in her stomach disappear.

It was past midnight. And Zoro is no show.

No calls, no messages… no anything!

Idiot probably forgot her birthday!

All of their friends are present at the party tonight! Even those who she barely knows and acquainted with her only through common friends.

Yet Zoro who was supposedly close to her, wasn’t here!

Nami clenched her fist and gritted her teeth. He’s gonna owe her for this big time!

She didn’t realize that Shakky was just right in front of her, chin resting on the palm of her hand, watching her.

“Don’t worry about it Nami-chan,” Shakky suddenly spoke up. Her eyes were still glinting with the same amusement as before. “I’m sure he’ll show up.”

Nami instantly turned red at that. “It’s not…. that’s not…” she stammered. But then she gave up. No use trying to hide it. The look on Shakky’s face clearly tells her that she knows what’s in her mind (or who, to be exact).

A determined look crossed Nami’s features. “If he doesn’t… I swear I’ll charge him so much, he’ll sell his soul to the devil just to pay me!”

That made Shakky laugh out loud. Luffy’s friends are always so interesting. That is why she is fond of them.

“He wouldn’t miss this for the world. Late he may be,” Shakky stated in a mysterious tone and smile like she knows something that Nami doesn’t.

Nami just gaped at her.

Then Luffy was suddenly hollering at the other end of the room.

“Zorooooo!” He was bellowing loud enough to drown the already deafening noise in the bar. There were shouts of protests and swearing as the young man pushed his way across the crowd to greet his friend. “Zoro’s here!!!” Zorooo! Oi did you got lost again?”

“Shut up Luffy and get off me!” A voice growled.

Nami perked up at the familiar gruff tone.

“Better late than never you dumbass,” Sanji was saying from somewhere. “Thought you got lost and ended up dead and decaying on the other side of the town. Tch! Too bad.”

“You wanna go cook?”

“Unfortunately I’m busy and don’t have time for you. Go scat.”

“Temee…”

“Zorooo!” Luffy whined, pulling the taller man away from Sanji and towards the bar counter where Nami was. “Why are you’re sooo late? Come on! You have to greet Nami or she’ll be mad at you and charge you so much money it’ll break you!”

A vein popped on Nami’s forehead as Shakky chuckled.

“Nami! Nami!” Luffy all but dragged Zoro towards her as Nami schooled her face into a neutral expression. “Look who’s finally here!”

“I can see that Luffy,” she huffed and narrowed her eyes at Zoro. “You’re late.”

Zoro scratched the back of his head as Luffy released him and started pestering Shakky for a drink like the one she has. “Sorry… got tied up.”

She raised an eyebrow at him. He was still in his after training ensemble—track pants, zip up hoodie, sports bag. It looks like he just came from Mihawk’s dojo or his gym workout or both.

“I just needed to take care of something,” Zoro was saying. “Anyway, happy birthday.”

“It’s already past midnight idiot! Technically my birthday’s done.”

Zoro glanced around him. The party is still at its height. “Apparently the celebration is not.”

She pursed her lips at his observation. “You better have a good reason why you just got here.”

“Shit. I’m gonna owe you big time for this aren’t I?”

“You bet your ass you already do.” The grin on her face was so evil that Zoro couldn’t help but think she really is the devil incarnate.

“Hey Zoro!” Luffy suddenly appeared between them. “Jaggy’s looking for you. Come on! Come on!” He was referring to Kid whom he fondly calls by that nickname. He hooked an arm around Zoro’s and pulled him towards where their other friends are and away from Nami—much to the latter’s disappointment.

-------------------------

“So why are you late?”

Zoro flinched slightly as Nami surreptitiously appeared beside him. He was standing outside Shakky’s bar, enjoying a few minutes of silence while drinking his beer. He had sneaked out of the party to get away from an already sugar-high and tipsy Luffy and the boisterous, smashed guests as well.

“Thought I already told you I had something to take care of.”

“Important enough to miss my party?”

He paused halfway to bringing the bottle to his lips. From the corner of his eyes he saw a displeased expression appeared on Nami’s face.

Zoro sighed inwardly. He should’ve known she was not going to let him off the hook that easy.

“Hey if it’s that important, then I have no complaints.” Nami raised both of her hands in mock-surrender.

He didn’t answer and instead took a swig from his drink.

“Just thought you were out busy with a date.”

Silence.

“WHAT?!”

Zoro had sharply swiveled towards her that Nami took a step back, hands still raised up in surrender. He was practically snarling at her.

She was teasing him of course. It was always fun to rile him up. Besides, he deserves it after making her wait for such a long time… intentionally or not.

Plus… she kept hearing snippets all night from their friends about why he’s been so busy recently (to the point that nobody has actually seen him) and why he was constantly absent at their recent group gatherings.

He’s dating someone. Stupid Usopp has whispered to Kaya and Chopper just as she was passing them on her way out to answer a phone call from their friend Vivi.

It made her insides twist and turn when she heard it.

To think he’d pick his date over her—his long-time friend?

What a jerk. She will wring his neck. Definitely.

She was so distracted with what she heard that she wasn’t able to enjoy Vivi’s enthusiastic greeting. And when she saw him stepped outside the bar to quietly enjoy the beer in his hand, she decided not to let the opportunity slip.

Zoro’s face was scrunched into a frown as he glared at her. “Where did you even get that idea?”

Nami bit her lower lip. “Usopp.” She unapologetically throwing her friend  to the sharks… or shark.

Zoro’s face darkened. “What did he say?”

“He said you were dating someone. So I assumed that’s the reason why we weren’t seeing much of you lately and also the reason why you are late for my birthday. And not  just because you were running around in circles again.”

The green-haired man studied her for a moment. His lone grey eye fixed intently on her. “Is that stupid long-nose making fun of me again?”

Nami blinked dumbly at his question. She’s not really sure what he meant by that.

This time Zoro’s frown had turn into a full blown scowl. “What the hell is that idiot up to now? I’m not dating anyone!”

And Nami’s face brightened at that. Good thing they were outside and the entryway of the bar was dimly lit or he will see it.

So Zoro was not really dating anyone? She fought the urge to smile. She’s gonna choke Usopp’s neck so hard later.

“Nami,” Zoro growled out. “Is that idiot making fun of me again? Because I swear I’m gonna hang him by his feet and we’re not talking about a tree this time!”

“Uhm… I don’t think so Zoro,” Nami’s lips trembled and she threw back her head and laughed. She recalled how Usopp spread a gossip about the older lad’s dating his ‘bokken’ before and Zoro literally strung his feet together and let him dangle from one of the trees lining up the front of their complex.

Zoro let out an irritated ‘tch’.

“So you’re really not out with someone?” Nami probed when she finished laughing. Of course she had to be sure. She still doesn’t know the reason why they’ve been seeing less of him lately or why he was late for her birthday party.

“No,” Zoro muttered. “I don’t have time for that.”

“Oh good,” Nami folded her arms across her chest, eyeing him sternly. “Because it that’s the reason why you showed up late for my birthday, I will raise your current debt amount so high you will be serving me eternally.”

He just smirked at her threat.

“And I’ll never forgive you.”

That made him glower at her. An unforgiving Nami is hard to appease after all.

She gave him a cheeky grin before swiping the bottle from his hand and taking a drink from it.

He glared at her, unimpressed with her antic as she childishly stuck her tongue out at him.

“Be glad it’s your birthday witch.” He muttered as he grabbed the bottle from her.

“Like I said Zoro, it isn’t anymore,” she reminded him. “That’s how late you are. You missed the whole day of it.” She was still peeved at him for that. Just a bit though.

She watched him as he exasperatedly rubbed the back of his neck.

And she smiled.

She was still glad he was personally here for her birthday. She can live with that.

There was a sound of pitter-patter coming from above them. And it didn’t take long for them to realize that it started raining.

They remained silent, watching the rain splatter on the street and on the pavement. Inside the bar, they could hear someone hooting. Probably Franky as he was on his eighteenth bottle when Nami stepped outside. And that was minutes ago. He’s most likely on his twentieth or twenty-first.

"Oi."​​ Zoro nudged her shoulder with his own, prompting her to look at him. He was suddenly standing a lot closer to her than before.

"What now Zoro?"

He pulled his hand away from the pocket of his jacket and almost shoved it in her face. "Happy birthday," he mumbled, diverting his gaze straightaway to avoid looking at her.

Nami was taken aback at the object in his hand. It was a small light orange box with a silver ribbon tied around it prettily.

She stared at it, then at him. Even in the dim light she noted the blush that appeared on his cheeks. Truth be told… a blushing Roronoa Zoro was gift enough for her birthday.

But of course she wouldn't say no to the present he was handing her.

She made a grab for it before he decides that she's taking too long in accepting it and retract his hand.

"Aawww... you didn't have to," Nami cooed and laughed when the blush on his cheek deepened and spread all over his face.

Cute.

"Shut up witch and just open it!"

"I’m really surprised you’re able to get me a present to be honest," she giggled. "And a fancy one too I might add."

Zoro grunted something that she didn't quite catch. She was far too busy untying the ribbon to pay any mind to whatever it was he's grumbling about.

When she opened the box, she didn't fight the gasp that escaped her lips.

Inside was a necklace. With a dainty thundercloud pendant.

She took it out… and a warm feeling suddenly washed over her making her cheeks tingle.

It was beautiful. It was perfect.

Nami lifted her eyes so she could look at him. Zoro was still engrossed on the empty street across them, watching the rain splash down on the ground with the droplets exploding everywhere.

It was really thoughtful of him. "Thank you Zoro."

He gave her a flinty side-glance. There was a smirk on his lips as he turned his attention back on the road. "It's nothing witch."

She glanced at the necklace again. She recalled they have a private joke back in high school that started one afternoon while watching an animated series on the old television set in Luffy's house. Nami loved one of the characters who had a knack for predicting the weather and whose weapon can conjure thunderclouds that produce lightning which the character uses to electrocute her enemies. "It'll be really handy to wield that. I can use it to electrocute your asses whenever anyone of you pisses me off. Especially you," she recalled poking his cheek harshly. "You're so goddamn hard to wake up whenever you are asleep." That had been so long ago. She honestly forgot all about it.

But Zoro remembered. She blinked rapidly as she felt herself tearing up.

Such a sweet gesture. And on her special day too!

Maybe she’s not gonna raise his debt and damn him into eternal servitude to her after all.

She lightly punched Zoro on the shoulder, earning a surprised glare from him.  

"What the hell are you hitting me for?” Zoro hissed at her, rubbing the abused part. “I already gave you a present!" "That doesn't mean you get a ticket away from my knuckles!" Nami countered. “That was for being late today of all days!”

"Oi! Gratitude you wicked witch!" He complained. "Do you know how many nights I've stayed behind to clean up Mihawk's dojo just to get you that?!"

Nami's eyes widened. And so did Zoro’s when he realized his slip.

She finally understood now… the real reason why he was not hanging out with them lately.

Why no one had seen him these past few days.

“Sooo…” she intoned as she glanced him mischievously, loving the expression on his face when as he realized that he just idiotically revealed what he was supposed to keep a secret from her. “You actually went to such lengths just to get me this?”

She almost burst out laughing when Zoro’s face turned so red and he stuttered his objection.

"N-no...I... ju-just..."

"Hmmm..." Nami hummed teasingly. "That's what you said."

"Fine!" He bit out. "Thought that gift would be good enough to cover three more future birthdays."

Nami chortled and tried to ignore the way her heart was doing cartwheels inside her chest from too much happiness.

"Do the honors Zoro," she requested as she handed him the necklace, turning around and pulling her hair over her shoulder so he can clasp it around her neck.

He didn’t protest and did what she asked. His fingers felt warm as they brushed her nape, as warm as the heat that was spreading on her cheeks and sending shivers running up and down her spine.

“There.”

She immediately whirled to face him. "So? How does it look?"

Zoro rolled his eye at her as she tried to dish out a compliment from him. "It looks... fine."

"Fine?!" Nami snorted in disbelief. "I swear Zoro, you can do better than that!" She looked down to check the necklace, touching the pendant while a pouting.

When she tilted her head up to look at him to chastise his lack of aptitude when it comes to flattering women… Zoro was smiling at her in a way that made her heart skip a beat. 

“It really suits you.”

The way he was looking at her right now made her want to kiss him.

Just like she always wanted to do.

Suddenly the bar door burst open and Luffy and Usopp ran out, excitedly (and drunkenly) shouting that the rain finally let up. Zoro immediately stepped away from her to prevent them from barreling into him.

And just like that… the one, rare moment between the two of them disappeared in an instant.

They both turned to watch the two hopped and danced in the middle of the street like a pair of lunatics. Chopper hurried past Zoro and Nami to join them.

“Oi get back here you dumbasses!” Sanji was shouting from inside.

Nami sighed. It was finally time to rein in the inebriated ones.

“I got it,” Zoro said nodding at her. The corners of his lips quirked up to give her a small smile, then he stepped out on the street to restrain the three before they can create anymore disturbance that might get them all in trouble.  

“Oi Nami!” Franky called out to her from the bar. “You and Zoro both get your asses here! There’s a lot more to drink!”

Nami nodded as she glanced again at the green-haired man who was now effortlessly hauling up Luffy, Usopp and Chopper by their collars back to the bar as they whined and griped.

"Nami-chan?"

She looked back to see Shakky standing on the doorway. "Problem?"

"Nah." Nami grinned. “Zoro’s just trying to contain the troublemakers.”

Shakky chuckled. “Zoro-chan’s really handy.” The woman paused momentarily, as if she was studying her. Then she said, "What a pretty necklace."

Nami’s hand automatically went to touch her necklace again.

“Omedetou.” Shakky gave her an insinuating smile. “Now come on. You and Zoro-chan’s still got a drinking competition to start.”

[sunmoonandeddie]

marriage story

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

word count: 5,641

summary: Fake marrying Bucky was only supposed to be a means to an end.

prompt: college au, fake marriage au, and enemies to lovers

warnings: swearing, talk of past sexual abuse

a/n: This was written for @broadwayandnetflix​ for @bucky-smiles​‘s Secret Santa!  SURPRISE!!!!  I’m so sorry I’m a day late, I just wanted to make sure it was as good as I could make it!!  I really hope you enjoy!!!

You weren’t sure how you ended up staring at divorce papers.

Hell, you’d just graduated college three weeks ago and had miraculously landed your first job that was conducive to your career.

And now, you were a divorcée at the age of twenty-one.

Granted, your marriage had lasted much longer than a lot of those that happened when the two people were teenagers.

It had also been fake, but that’s beside the point.

You read over the divorce papers for the eightieth time since they’d arrived.  Both of you took your individual things, no need for lawyers…

It had all seemed so simple when it first began.  A means to an end.

You were eighteen and stupid.  Desperate.  You had no idea what the consequences would be.

You had no idea that you’d actually fall in love with your husband.

He’d needed to live off campus since he couldn’t afford the on campus housing.  At a minimum of seven thousand dollars a school year, it was ridiculous.  You couldn’t really afford it either, but the school had a rule that you couldn’t live off campus until your junior year, and the two of you were still second semester freshmen.

Then there was the issue with your FAFSA.  You weren’t exactly on good terms with your parents.  And by not on good terms, you meant that you didn’t speak to them.  At all.  Getting their tax information wasn’t going to happen, and it wasn’t like they were helping you pay for college.

But FAFSA wouldn’t let you fill it out as an independent student until you were twenty-one.  Apparently, being cut off from your parents wasn’t enough of a ‘special circumstance’ to allow it.

But, there was one little thing that could fix all that.

Matrimony.

If you were married, you’d have to file independently.  No questions asked about parents.

And the university would allow you to live off campus, too.

It was a perfect solution.  A quick little trip to the courthouse.

Living together had seemed logical.  A little two bedroom apartment was much cheaper than seven thousand dollars for nine months in a dorm room you had to share.

Plus, you had to keep up the illusion to the school and the government that you were married.

Outside of living together though, there wasn’t much needed.  Each of you wore a fake ring when you went to your meetings with your advisor and your classes.  It kept the rabid frat boys away from you, at least.

And then there were the scholarships.  Turns out, there are scholarships specifically for married college kids, and your advisor thought you were just perfect for it because she’d never met such a wonderful couple.

It was all perfect.  Until it wasn’t.

First off, you and Bucky didn’t even really like each other when all of this started.  You only knew each other because you were best friends with Natasha, who was his best friend’s girlfriend.  It had actually been the two of them that had gotten the idea in the first place.

“So, I’m sure you’re wondering why we gathered you here today,” Steve said, and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes.

“Steve, this is my room.”

This was not how you wanted to spend your Saturday night.  You’d worked a double that day, from eight in the morning to ten that night.

The perks of working at a bar that did Mimosa Mornings on the weekends.  The worst part was that you weren’t even allowed to take a shot or two to help you get through it since you were eighteen.

Stupid fucking law.  If you could work in a bar, you should be able to drink to deal with the customers.  Because fuck, they’re horrible.

But you made more than you’d be making at Buffalo Wild Wings, that’s for sure.

“Can we just get whatever this is over with?” Bucky asked from across the room.  He definitely wasn’t keen to be stuck in a room with you for any longer than necessary.  “I have work in the morning.”

“Same here,” you added, narrowing your eyes at the two who sat in front of you.

Natasha was your best friend and your roommate, but fuck were you ready to put out a ‘New Friends Wanted’ sign.  You could take applications.

Requirement number one: Must not be dating the best friend of the most annoying prick in the world AKA Bucky Barnes.

Requirement number two: Must not be waiting to ambush you in your own dorm room with said prick.

“So, both of you are having issues with the university,” Nat said as she took out a bunch of papers.  “The dorms are crazy expensive and you’re not allowed to live off campus.  Also, FAFSA is ridiculous.”

“And we have a solution,” Steve said, a grin on his face.  He was such a giver.  He loved his friends more than anything in the world and would literally give anything for them.  Seriously.  You’d once watched him actually give the shirt off his back to Bucky when the latter had gotten drunk at a party and puked all over his.

He’d also gotten it on your shoes, and Bucky had just burped and said, “They look better now.”

The disgusting asshole.

“Well, spit it out,” you said, rubbing your temples.  You were still in your uniform, a pair of cut off jean shorts and a tank top.  Your hair smelled like cigarette smoke and someone’s beer that they spilled on you.  “I’d like to go to sleep before sunrise, please.”

“You two could get married.”

Both you and Bucky stared at them like they’d grown two heads.

“I’m sorry…  What the fuck did you just say?” You asked, standing up.

Natasha rushed to continue, still grinning.  “If you two get married, the university will let you live off campus, and FAFSA will let you file as independent!”

“And it’s cheap!  A marriage license only costs like… fifty bucks?  Something like that!” Steve said.

Well…  It wasn’t… a horrible idea, even if you and Bucky might end up killing each other before then.

“I don’t know...,” you said, the whole idea making you nervous.  Marriage?  Come on.

Bucky crossed his arms over his chest defensively.  “I really don’t want to be married to her.  We’d kill each other before we hit our six month anniversary,” he mocked, shooting a glare your way.

“It would only be until you graduate!” Natasha said.  “And then, you two get divorced and it becomes a funny story to tell at parties!”

You shared a look across the room with the brunette.  It would solve your problems…

“Fine.”

Turns out, getting married was a lot easier than you thought it would be.  All four of you went to the courthouse that next Tuesday when all of you had a break in between classes.

You wore a sweatshirt and leggings, your ratty sneakers that were covered in mud along the bottom.  Bucky wore jeans and a university hoodie.

Not exactly usual wedding attire.

Natasha, ever the optimist ever since she met Steve, had shoved a daisy she’d picked in your hair.

And an hour later, you’d walked out as Mrs. Barnes.

Wrapping your arms around yourself, you stood up from the couch and walked around the little place you’d called home since you were eighteen.

It had been quiet the first few months.  You signed a lease on an apartment a few blocks from campus and had moved in right at the end of the school year, but he went home with Steve to Brooklyn, New York.

You were alone the entire summer except for the few weekends that Natasha managed to come visit.  The only time you and Bucky spoke was when he texted you to let you know when he was moving in.

And that’s when the fighting had started.

As you stared at a picture of the two of you on the wall, you couldn’t help but laugh.  In the photo, you two were sitting on the couch, holding a cake that Natasha and Steve had gotten you as a joke.  HAPPY 2ND ANNIVERSARY! was written across it in bright blue icing.

It was a far cry from when you two had first moved in.  Everything was an issue.  You didn’t do this, he did that, the both of you wanted to watch different movies and he had brought the television but you’d brought the DVD player.  Everything.  Hell, you’d sleep on the bean bag in Natasha’s dorm some nights because even being in the same apartment as him was too much.

Eventually, there was compromise.  An understanding grew between you and with that, a truce.  You couldn’t keep living like you were.

You were pretty sure the war had finally, silently ended one late night in October.  It was the weekend before Halloween, and you’d had the worst shift of your life.

Your keys clanged as you unlocked the front door, trying to open it as quietly as possible.  Even from where you stood, you could see the clock above the stove that read 1:42 AM.  You were supposed to be off at ten, but that clearly hadn’t happened.  One of the other girls working had gotten sick and you were forced to cover the few hours she was supposed to work alone until close.

And to add onto that, you made less the entire weekend than you had last Friday night.  You’d been hit on, groped, yelled at.  Fuck.  You just wanted to collapse in your bed.

“You’re home late.”

“Fuck!” You jumped in shock, your heart pounding in your chest.  God.  Your anxiety had just spiked and the exhaustion you’d been feeling was replaced with your fight or flight instinct.

Bucky was standing in the hallway entrance, brows furrowed.  “Sorry.  I didn’t mean to scare you.”  He had on those gray sweats that he looked so good in…

No!  Down girl!  Bad!

It didn’t matter that he was hot.  He was a total dick.

Though, lately he’d be rather kind.  Nice.  There’d been less fights in the past few weeks.

You cleared your throat, looking away from him.  “Yeah, Wanda got sick, so I had to close.”

“There’s dinner in the microwave,” he said, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“Oh.  Thank you.”

He nodded, before disappearing down the hall.  It surprised you when you heard the bath start, but whatever.  Whether or not he took baths was none of your business.

You were surprised to find a huge bowl of vegetable soup in the microwave.  Huh.  You’d just been talking to Natasha about how much you missed your mom’s homemade version.

Whatever.  It wasn’t like you’d ever be having that again.

You let your head rest on the counter as you waited for the soup to heat up.  Fuck.  Your entire body ached.

“Hey, do you want epsom salt?” Bucky called out from the bathroom.

“Uh, what?” You said as you raised your head.  Even just moving that little made your head pound.

He poked his head out of the doorway, his long hair pulled back in a bun.  “For your bath?  Do you want epsom salt?”

“My bath?  What the hell are you talking about?” You asked as the microwave beeped.

Bucky leaned against the doorframe.  “The bath that I’m currently running you.  Do.  You.  Want.  Epsom.  Salts?”

There was a long pause as the two of you stared at each other.  “Yeah,” you said finally, your voice coming out a lot smaller than you expected.  “That would be nice.”

Once he’d disappeared back into the bathroom, you pulled out your phone and texted Nat.

To: Tasha

Why is Barnes acting weird?

From: Tasha

Which one of you?

Get it?

Cause you’re married?

To: Tasha

Yeah

I got it.

But he’s being fucking weird.

From: Tasha

How so?

To: Tasha

He made me dinner?  At least, he poured vegetable soup from a can into a bowl and left it in the microwave.

Oh

And he’s running me a bath???

V V strange.

If I don’t text you tomorrow

It’s probably because he killed me

From: Tasha

Oh that

To: Tasha

What do you mean

“Oh that”????

NATASHA

ANSWER YOUR PHONE

From: Tasha

Sorry, was talking to Steve

He mentioned you’d been working a lot and how tired you were so I told him he should do something nice.

And I may have told him that you missed your mom’s vegetable soup.

So that probably explains that.

“Hey, it’s ready,” Bucky said as he came into the kitchen.  “I’ve got some towels in the dryer going, so they’ll be all warm when you’re ready to get out.”  He seemed so… laissez-faire about it.  Like you two didn’t fight on a daily basis usually.  He watched as you took a bite of the soup, his blue eyes zeroed in on you.  “Do you like it?” He asked.  “I tried following my ma’s recipe.  Don’t know how well it went.”

You couldn’t help but moan around the spoon as the warm soup went down.  Even reheated, it was amazing.  “This is your mom’s recipe?  It’s amazing.”

His cheeks flushed as he tried to hide a grin.  “Thanks.  I’ve missed her cooking.”

It was silent as you finished up the soup, the only sound being the spoon clanging against the bowl.  It wasn’t until you set your dishes in the sink to wash the next day that he spoke again.

“Oh, I got you this,” he said as he pulled out a box.  “I saw my advisor and he knows that we’re married and he mentioned that we still don’t have rings, so I just went and grabbed a ring from a thrift store.”

It was then that you noticed the simple silver band on his left ring finger, glinting in the low light.

“You didn’t have to do that,” you said as you took the box.  But your breath was stolen from your lungs as you opened it, revealing a gorgeous diamond engagement ring with a matching diamond wedding band.  “It’s…  It’s beautiful…  Thank you…”

“You’re welcome,” he said softly, rubbing the back of his neck.  “Uh, you go ahead and get in the bath.  I’ll bring you the towels when they’re done.”

As you sat in the bath, you couldn’t help but stare at the rings that now resided on your left hand.  They glinted in the low light of the candles that had been placed in various places around the bathroom, most likely lit with Bucky’s lighter from the local smoke shop.

They were absolutely stunning.

Maybe… just maybe… this marriage wouldn’t be as bad as you first thought it would be.

You glanced over at the table as your phone buzzed, running to it.  Maybe it’s Bucky…

But your hope was dashed as you realized it was Natasha calling you.

You hadn’t realized you’d been crying until a drop of water fell on the screen.  Wiping your eyes, you brought it up to your ear.  “Hey, Tasha!  What’s up?”  You couldn’t help but wince.  You sounded like a fucking real estate agent.  Perfect and peppy and… not you.

“Hey, I just wanted to call and see how you’re doing,” she whispered, as though she was trying to keep someone else from hearing.  “Bucky got the divorce papers today and I figured that meant you did, too.”

Ah, another thing.  He’d been staying at Steve and Natasha’s place since all of you had graduated, and the time had come for the divorce.  He’d gotten all of his things out within two days, except for the hoodie you were currently cocooned in and your wedding rings.

“I know how much you love this place,” he’d said with a wry smile.  “So you can have it in the divorce settlement.”

It had been a joke.  The divorce settlement.  Like you two had actually been in love and things just hadn’t worked out.

“You aren’t gonna change the Netflix password on me, right?” You asked as you stood in the doorway of Bucky’s room, arms crossed over your chest.  “Because I’m still paying for half of it.”

Buck grinned at you as he taped the last box shut.  “I don’t know…  Might change it up on you.  Have it all to myself.  Then my suggested movies and shows won’t be so fucked up,” he teased.

You rolled your eyes, glaring at him.  But there was no heat behind it.  “We have separate profiles on there, you dumbass.  So if Gossip Girl is on your suggested, that’s your fault.”

The laugh that erupted from his mouth made him throw his head back, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

Seeing Bucky Barnes laugh was one of the Seven Wonders of the World.  It was better than the Great Pyramids of Giza, the Taj Mahal, and the Great Wall of China all rolled into one.

“We’re still gonna have Thursday night movies, right?” You asked, trying to ignore the way your voice cracked.

In the three years since you’d gotten married, Thursday night had become your sort of fake Date Night.  You two would order takeout and watch movies until the both of you passed out of the couch.  You both changed your availability at your jobs to let them know that you couldn’t work Thursdays.  Not even Natasha and Steve were allowed to intrude.  It was just your special night to hang out.

“I’ll bring the food.  Do you want Thai or Mexican?” He asked, his features a little softer.

“I’ll text you what I want,” you said.  Biting your lip, you toyed with the rings on your left hand.  “I guess I should give you these back, huh?”  You started to slip them off, but he stopped you.

“They’re yours,” he said, his hand closing over yours.  His blue eyes shimmered in the light as you swallowed.  “Keep them… as a reminder of your former husband.”  The corner of his mouth twitched, but you couldn’t tell if he was going to smile or frown.

“I’m gonna miss you,” you said, suddenly surging forward to hug him.  “Even though you’re super annoying.”

Bucky laughed as he wrapped his arms around you just as tight.  “I’m gonna miss you, too.”

“How’s he doing?” You asked as you moved to what had formerly been Bucky’s room.  It was now completely bare, except for a single gum wrapper on the floor.  You sank down against the wall as you stared at it.  Extra wintermint gum.  Because he absolutely hated spearmint.

“About as well as you, I imagine,” she said slowly, choosing her words ever so carefully.  “I don’t know.  He went out for a walk a few minutes ago.  But he locked himself in the guest room for hours after getting the papers.”

You let your head fall back against the wall, staring up at the ceiling as you tried to stop another onslaught of tears.  “This is what we wanted,” you said, your voice cracking.

A pause.  You could feel the tension even through the phone, a can of worms Natasha was about to open.  “Is it?  Is this what you wanted?”

“This was always the plan!” You retorted, the tears coming in a wave now.  “We’d stay married until after we graduated and then we’d divorce.  No drama, no court, no lawyers.  Just a means to an end.”

You could hear her whispering to someone that you knew was Steve on the other end for a few seconds, the sound muffled.  She’d probably covered the speaker.  “Do you want me to come over?” She finally asked.

“No,” you said with a sigh, rubbing the hell of your palm against your eyes.  “I just wanna… curl up in bed and watch cheesy movies and never come out.”

You didn’t understand.  Why did this hurt so bad?  He was just a friend.  You two had never even kissed, for crying out loud.  This wasn’t some fanfiction where you two fell into bed one drunken night and then woke up with feelings.  This wasn’t an ‘Oh no, there’s only one bed’ type of deal with 100K+ words on AO3.  You two were just friends.  Really.  There was no happy ending for the two of you waiting.

“Are you still gonna go to the Barnes’s Fourth of July party?” Natasha asked, her voice softer.

You pulled your knees up to your chest, resting your chin on your knee caps.  “There’s no point.  We’re not married anymore.”

“Sweetheart,” she chided.  “You know he’d want you there.  So would his family.  You’re still a Barnes, even if you change your last name back.”

“I don’t know,” you said, chewing on your bottom lip.  “I like the last name Barnes better.  It’s not like I have any connection to my old last name.  Maybe…”  You swallowed.  “Maybe I should keep it.  It costs money to change it back, after all.  It’s on my license now.”

Ah, yes.  Because your license had expired while you were married and you’d had to get a new one.

“You’re a Barnes now and forever, hon,” she teased.  You could hear her smile through the phone.  “And you know Winifred would be pissed as hell if you didn’t go.  You’re her daughter now just as much as Bucky is her son.”

God, the tears came on like a tsunami when you remembered the Barneses.  George, Winifred, Becca, all of them.  Especially Winifred.  Sweet, sweet Winnie that had become your mom in the years since you’d met her.

“Bucky, I don’t know about this,” you said as you walked up the steps to his place.  Or, rather, his parents’ place.  “I should just go home.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he scoffed as he searched for the right key.  “I’m not letting you drive the way back just to spend Christmas alone.”

Truthfully, it was stupid to even suggest.  Your apartment that you shared with him now was over eight hours away, and it was two days before Christmas Eve.

God, how the hell did you end up here?  You’d been planning on spending it alone, just like you had Thanksgiving.

But when Bucky had come back from the break and realized that you hadn’t gone anywhere, it’d prompted him to ask why, which had then resulted in him insisting on you accompanying him to New York City for Christmas with his family.

“What if they don’t like me?” You asked, barely audible.  In truth, you were terrified.  This was your first holiday season that you were away from your parents.  Thanksgiving had been strange, and you had certain it wasn’t going to get any better up until a few weeks ago.

Bucky stopped suddenly, looking at you with big blue eyes.  “Sweetheart, they’re going to adore you,” he said, more sincere than he’d been since the two of you had gotten married.  “How could they not?”

“You didn’t!”

“Yeah, well, you didn’t like me either.  And then we got to know each other.”

He had a point.

You grumbled, staring down at your boots.  They were still covered in snow.

“And besides, Ma hasn’t shut up about meeting you ever since she found out about you,” he muttered as he finally found the right key.  “Dad said she’s been obsessively cleaning the house since she found out you were coming.”

As soon as the opened the door, you were hit with a wall of sound.  A woman with the same shade of hair as Bucky rushed forward, trapping the six foot man in a hug.  “YOU’RE HOME!”

“Winnie, come on, don’t suffocate the boy.”  A man with Bucky’s eyes appeared, his hands shoved in his pockets.  He was trying to appear nonchalant, but the second he was free of his mother’s grasp, he was dragging him into another hug.  “I’ve missed you, son.”

“And you must be his wife!” Winifred Barnes said, suddenly turning on you.

“Ma, she has a name.”

“I know that!”

“Winnie–”

You were pulled into a hug, and you were suddenly overwhelmed with feelings.  Maybe it was just the fact that you hadn’t hugged your own mother in so long, or maybe it was just because Winifred was that lovely of a person.  Either way, you were tearing up as she hugged you tightly.  You gave her your name as she pulled back, looking over your face.

“Oh, you’re even prettier than Jamie said!”

Your cheeks flushed as Bucky grumbled out a quiet “Ma…”

It was then that you were swept into the apartment, finding it bustling with people.  You were then introduced to the rest of his family: his younger sister, Becca, who was going to be a senior in high school and was SO grateful to have a new sister, his aunts, his uncles, his parents.  The entire apartment was bursting with people even days before the actual holiday.

It wasn’t until after dinner (which was absolutely delicious) that you were able to capture a quiet moment in the kitchen, helping Winifred wash dishes.

“Thank you for having me over,” you said, to break the silence.  It wasn’t uncomfortable, surprisingly, you just felt like you needed to vocalize your thanks for what was probably the third time.  “It means a lot.”

“Any friend of Jamie’s is a friend of ours,” she said as she rinsed off a plate.  “And we’re so grateful for what you’re doing.  He mentioned that it helps you, too, but…  Our family can’t afford to pay for his housing.  We can barely make his tuition.”  She looked at you with crystal clear eyes that seemed to bore into your soul.  “We’re so happy to have you.”  She then paused, glancing over at the side of the sink, where you’d set your wedding rings just to make sure they didn’t slip off in the water.  “You know, I was so happy when he asked for my ring.  He’s always dreamed of giving it to a girl.”

“What?” You asked, looking at her in shock.

Winifred paused, her brows furrowed in a way that really reminded you of your husband.  “Did he not tell you?  The engagement ring is mine.  But he saved up over the summer to buy a matching band for it.”

Your heart raced in your chest as you stared at the rings.  Bucky had gotten his ma’s ring for you?  But… why?  You two were barely friends at this point.

“I would’ve been spending Christmas alone if it wasn’t for him inviting me,” you said, breaking her stare to look down at your soapy hands.  “He found out I spent Thanksgiving at home and almost shit a brick.”  You rushed to cover your mouth, to apologize, but she just snorted.

An easy smile tugged at her lips.  “Holidays are a big thing for our family, and I guess we passed that down to Jamie.  Everyone comes to town for about a week and we spend it drinking and shooting the shit, baking.  We can’t afford much, so our gifts are usually just spending time together,” she said.

“It sounds nice,” you whispered as you scrubbed absentmindedly at a pan.  “My family… even when I still talked to them, we were never big on holidays.”  Winifred had gone quiet beside you.  “It was always just us.  We’d eat dinner together and sometimes I’d get a present, but mostly it was just spent like any other day.”

She took a deep breath, setting a plate on the drying rack.  “What… happened?  If you don’t mind me asking?”

“I… confronted my parents about the sexual abuse I went through as a kid,” you said slowly, swallowing around the lump that had suddenly formed in your throat.  “My cousin…  He, uh…  He’s only a year and a half older than me.  From the time I was… four or five, I think, to about twelve, he would… you know.”  The kitchen felt deadly silent, and you were so glad that the rest of the Barnses, including Bucky, were in the living room.  Even though he knew the basics of what had happened, you never told him details.  “And my parents would punish me for it when he got caught.  They blamed me.  They’d ground me or spank me or… whatever.”  You let out a weak laugh, trying to lighten the mood.  “They didn’t really take it well.  It doesn’t matter though.  I’m fine.”

You were shocked when you were suddenly pulled into a tight hug.  Winifred’s arms formed a cocoon around you and you could feel her tears on your face.  She was only an inch or two taller than you.  “That was not your fault,” she gasped out, holding you to her.  “That was not your fault.”

Before you realized what was happening, you were clutching onto her as hot tears streamed down your cheeks.

You didn’t know how long she’d held you before she leaned back, wiping away your tears.  Or at least, trying to before they were replaced with more.  “You are not what he did to you, you hear me?” She asked, wiping at her own face.  “You are always welcome here.  We’re your family now.”

“What’s going on here?”

The both of you turned to see Bucky in the doorway, his sea blue eyes wide.  He was holding a few extra plates that had been left behind.

“Nothing,” she said with a watery grin.  “Just… talking.”

“Here,” he said as he walked over and put the dishes inside the sink filled with soapy water.  “I’ll finish up with my wifey here, and you go clean up before dad freaks out because you’re crying.”

She barked out a laugh, nodding.  “Fine.  Fine.  You know how he gets if I’m upset,” she said, kissing your forehead before leaving.

“So… You actually okay?” Bucky asked as he took over rinsing the dishes you washed.

The smile that found its way onto your lips was real, surprisingly, as you said, “Everything’s great, Jamie.”

And even though he let out a groan, he was smiling, too.

It was after that trip that you’d started calling him Jamie.  It just… felt better rolling off your tongue than Bucky ever did.  It was also when holidays in Brooklyn became a permanent thing.  Anytime Bucky went home, so did you.

They were your family.

But now…  Now what?  Did you lose them like you lost your parents?

Granted, losing your parents wasn’t exactly the worst thing.

“Sweetheart?  You there?” Natasha asked, bringing you back to the present.

“Yeah,” you said, shaking your head to clear out the cloudiness of your memories.  “Yeah, I’m–”  You broke off as you heard a knock at the door, a frown tugging at your lips.  “Hold on, Tasha, I’ll call you back…”  You hung onto your phone as you walked to the front door, peeking through the peephole.

Bucky?...  What the fuck was he doing here?

You opened the door wide, shocked to find him crying.  His eyes were puffy and red, his nose running.  “Jamie?  What’s wrong?”  You reached forward to touch his shoulder, shoving your phone in your back pocket.

“Don’t sign those papers.”

“Wait…  What?”  Now you were even more confused.  Your brows furrowed as you pushed his hair back from his face.  God, he needed a haircut.  Maybe you could…  No.  Not the focus right now.

He stepped toward, half inside the apartment that had been his, too, just two weeks before.  His large, calloused hand caressed your face.  “I don’t want to not be your husband,” he said, his voice cracking.

Your heart thundered inside your chest and you were half sure this was some kind of trick of your mind to soothe its aching.  “What do you mean?”

“I want to make this work,” he said as he cupped your face in his hands.  “I… I want to actually have Thursday night Date Nights and take you out and when we go home for the holidays, I want to kiss you under the mistletoe my ma always hangs up, and I want you to wear my ma’s ring.  I want to be your husband.  Please.”

You didn’t realize you were crying–yet again, fucking damn it–until he wiped them away.  “I don’t want to not be your wife, either,” you said, your voice shaking.  “I love you, I love you so much.”

His lips met yours in a blazing kiss, holding you closer than you thought possible.  “I love you more,” he whispered against your lips.  “I’m never letting you go.”

You dragged him inside, shutting the door before kissing him again.  “You’re staying here.  None of this bullshit of you staying with Tasha and Steve.”

“Gladly,” he chuckled, holding onto your waist.  “But only if I get to sleep in your bed.”

“Only if we can shred those divorce papers.”

The moment was interrupted by his phone ringing, and you couldn’t help but giggle when you saw it was Winifred.  He shot you an apologetic look as he answered it.  “Hey, ma.”

She was speaking so loudly you could hear her clearly.  “Well?!  How did it go?!  Did you ask her?!”

“Yes, I asked her,” he said slowly, squeezing your side.  “She said yes.  I’m with her now.”

Both of you flinched away as she screamed in excitement.  “GIVE HER THE PHONE!  GIVE HER THE PHONE!”

You smiled as you pressed it to your ear.  “Hi, mom.”

“BABY!  I’M SO HAPPY!  NOW WE CAN HAVE A REAL WEDDING!”  She was speaking at a hundred miles an hour.  “Do you want a summer or fall wedding?  I think it might be too late to do summer, but I’m sure we could scrounge something together!”

You giggled as Bucky stole kisses from you while she was speaking, distracting you.

“Sweetheart?  You there?”

“A late summer wedding sounds perfect,” you said, unable to wipe the grin from your face.  “Absolutely perfect.”

[imaginationintowords]

Folklore [song series]

invisible strings

Modern Day AU! Bucky Barnes x Natasha Romanoff; Steve Rogers x OC!Reader

Plot: Inspired by Taylor Swift’s new album Folklore. The story follows the timeline of Bucky and Elizabeth’s life throughout the years

Word count: 3401

[ a/n: thank you so much for all the love and support. We’re almost done with this series! If I forgot to tag you please let me know! Also the ending is a bit lackluster but decided to save the best one for something special for the last chapter]

Age: 21

Year: June/July 2015

Location: CA & NY

"Thank-you all for coming and christening our new place," Thor thanks everyone, as he and Loki stood up at the dining table in their lit up backyard.

"Now there's one person I want to thank, my love," Thor said, reaching his hand out to Wanda who was sat to his left, Loki took his seat back down, "My love, I just want to thank-you for being by my side these last two years. I have never been as happy as I am with anyone else. Now I'm not very good with my words, but what I do know is how I feel about you. The love I have for you exceeds anything else."

"So, I just need to ask you this one question," he says, bending down on one knee, holding Wanda's left hand, while holding the ring box in the other, "Will you, Wanda Maximoff marry me?

"Yes," she cried out, throwing her arms around Thor's neck.

Everyone got up to cheer the newly engaged couple.

Steve and Elizabeth laid naked in her bed, comfortably in each other's presence after the night's activities.

"I can't believe Wanda and Thor are engaged," Elizabeth said, as Steve rubbed her arm as she laid on his chest.

"He's been talking about it for the last year," Steve tells her, "Said he didn't want to scare her off."

"Guess I'm going to have to find a new roommate," she jokes.

"Well actually, I was thinking."

"You better not be proposing to me post sex, while we're naked in bed," Elizabeth playfully jabbed his chest, looking up at him from his chest.

"No, no," Steve lets out a hearty laugh, "Not yet. We still have time for that."

"I was actually thinking, why don't we get a place together. After graduation," Steve suggests.

"What about your job?"

"I can commute," he says, "I'll be done with school in May. You still have law school after graduation, and I have no doubt Stanford is going to accept you into their law program, so you don't have to move."

"What if I don't get accepted?"

"I highly doubt you won't, but if you don't, I'm sure Columbia will snatch you up. And I'd follow you, wherever you go."

"Really?" Elizabeth asked, surprised he would even say that.

"Yeah. There's a lot of architect firms out there, and I'm sure my boss will give me a nice recommendation."

"I couldn't ask that of you Steve," Elizabeth said, getting off of his chest to sit up, grabbing the blanket to cover her chest.

"Which is why I'm offering. I want to do that Liz. This right here," he sits up, and gestures to the both, "This is all I want. So please, if it comes time for that, just let me."

"Okay. Promise you won't resent me?" She asks, feeling overwhelmed with emotion.

"Never," he seriously says, pulling her in for a kiss, and back into his arms.

As they laid in bed, Steve notices Liz is lost in her thoughts.

"Whatcha thinking about?"

"Us, and everything that's lead us to this moment. Like there were some invisible strings leading me to you," she tells him.

"Yeah, you're correct," he ponders.

"Like everything that's happened, happened for a reason. We weren't supposed to be with each other then otherwise we probably wouldn't have made it out of high school."

"You don't think?" Steve asked.

"No, because we wouldn't have been the people we are now. Let's be real here Steve, you and I are not Bucky or Peggy. We're dreamers. Full on happy ending believing people who happened to be with realists at the time. We would've been so naive about the world outside of Brooklyn," Elizabeth says.

"We had never truly experienced pain in the way that we did. If we didn't go through senior year the way that we did, we wouldn't be here. Not specifically together or in California. But we would be stuck in a life where we forced ourselves to be happy. Where we didn't have room to grow. Room to experience a different way of life. We would've been who we were as 16 year olds. And don't get me wrong but that's no way to be."

"I'm glad this happened when it did," she says tilting her head to look at Steve's face.

"Me too," he smiled kissing the top of her head.

"Wow, my arm is so tired from lugging this ring around," Wanda announces walking into Elizabeth's room where she was packing things into a suitcase.

"Must be so exhausting," Liz teases as Wanda takes a seat on her bed.

"Incredibly," Wanda smiled, "How's the packing going?"

"Good, I have everything I'll need for the next two weeks," Liz tells her, "You guys are flying in two days before Steve's birthday right?"

"Yup! Thor seems to be more excited about Steve turning 21 than he is," Wanda laughs, "Next up will be you next month. Vegas won't be ready for us."

"Thor really is going out for all of our 21st birthdays, is he."

"He's excited we're all legally allowed to drink," Wanda says.

"So," Wanda shifted in her seat, "Are you guys going to the baby shower?"

"Yeah we are," Liz nodded her head, "Things have been better, and Steve really wants to be there for Bucky, and so do I."

"How are you feeling about it all?"

"Honestly, if Bucky is happy then so am I."

"It doesn't bother you even the slightest that he's having a baby with the woman he cheated on you with?"

"No," Liz shakes her head, "We've both moved on and grew from our situation. I'm happy with Steve, truly 100% happy. I know in my heart that Steve is the one."

"Whoa, wait, back that up," Wanda immediately shot up from her spot on the bed, "He's the one?"

"Yeah," Liz bascule smiles, her cheeks turning a slight pink.

"I mean, I knew that you loved him, but I don't think you've ever said out loud that he was the one."

Elizabeth shrugs her shoulders trying to fight off the huge grin that wants to spread across her face, "Well he is."

"Wow, umm this is great news," Wanda says looking around the room.

"What's wrong?" Liz asks taking in Wanda's sudden mood change.

"I just," Wanda coughed, trying to fight back the ball in her throat, her eyes tearing up, "I'm so happy for you. God this ring is making me incredibly emotional."

"Aw Wands," Elizabeth pulled her into a hug.

"You just deserve to be with someone who truly thinks the world of you and would move those worlds for you," Wanda cries in Liz's shoulder, "I just remember you telling me all about the shit you went through with Bucky in high school, and then the crap he put you through freshman year. You were just so over the idea of love. Even with steve you were so cautious, so just to hear you say that he's the one. I'm just so incredibly happy."

Elizabeth hugged Wanda tightly, tears streaming down her face. It meant the world to her to hear Wanda say those things. She felts so incredibly lucky to have a friends like her in her life.

"I better be your maid of honor," Wanda teased pulling away and wiping her tears, "Because you already know you're mine."

"I wouldn't have it any other way."

"We still need to get a baby shower gift for tomorrow," Elizabeth told Steve as they lounged around his childhood bedroom. Steve was sat at his desk sketching, while Elizabeth laid in his bed reading a book.

"I can do that if you want," Steve offered, not wanting to make Elizabeth uncomfortable no matter how many times she's told him she was fine.

"Somehow I don't think I can trust you getting the correct gift," Elizabeth teased.

"Babies like legos right?" He teased back, getting up to join her on the bed, laying his head down on her stomach.

"We can go together, I still need to get a few things for the party next weekend," she said playing with his hair.

Steve hummed in response, feeling himself getting tired, "A quick little nap and we'll go."

"Sounds good," she smiled at the man snuggled up on her.

The next day the couple were walking into the Barnes' backyard, hand-in-hand with a gift bag.

They were both instantly greeted by Bucky's mother Winnie.

"Oh you two made it!" She enthusiastically greeted them, pulling them both into a hug.

"Of course. We wouldn't have missed it," Steve smiled at her.

"Thank-you," she turned to Liz and grabbed her hand, "both of you. James really appreciates it. We all do. Especially with everything that has happened, he's going to need his best friends."

"You don't have to thank us," Liz says, "We'll always be there for Bucky. No matter what happens."

"Well thank-you," she smiles, and then turns to Steve, "Steve the men have been sent inside, so you can see your way inside."

"Already getting pushed aside," he jokes.

He placed a kiss on Elizabeth's cheek, "I'll be inside if you need me."

She nodded her head, then glanced around the yard and caught eye contact with an old high school classmate, Natasha's friend, rolling her eyes at the couple.

She cleared her throat, "Where do the gifts go?"

"Over at that table where Rebecca is at," Winnie smiled, and pointed to the table to the right where Rebecca was organizing all the gifts. Liz thanked her and made her way over.

Liz couldn't help but start to feel a bit uncomfortable. She hadn't planned for she and Steve to be separated for the entire party. She didn't really know anyone here, aside from Bucky's family, where things were still a bit awkward after last summer.

Even though things were good between Steve, Bucky, and her, it was still awkward. She and Natasha don't have the best history, they still haven't talked everything out, clear the air. Not that Nat owed Elizabeth a conversation, she just thought that now that things were okay, maybe them two can work on their relationship, for the sake of Bucky. But whenever Liz tried to reach out Nat would just say that she was busy, so she didn't push it. Not with Natasha being pregnant, plus she figured now that she was in town for two weeks that maybe they could get together for a quick chat.

"Hey Liz," Rebecca greeted her, a sigh of relief to see a friendly face.

"Hey Bec," she smiled, hugging the teen.

"God, I'm so glad to see you," Rebecca said pulling back from the hug, "Some of these girls are real bitches."

Liz was taken back for a second hearing Rebecca swear, it's sometimes hard to believe that tiny little toddler is now this young lady about to enter her senior year of high school.

"I'm sure they're not so bad," Liz said trying to give them the benefit of the doubt.

"Really? Because they're looking at you like you just murdered their entire family," Rebecca said.

Elizabeth turned around to see Natasha's friends huddled in a semi-circle around Natasha, all whispering and glaring at her. She turned back around to Rebecca and gave her a force smile.

Rebecca felt bad at bringing that to Liz's attention. Liz was always so nice to her, and even continues to keep in contact with her especially when Rebecca needs any help or advice.

"I can take that," she said trying to change the subject.

"Thank-you," she quietly said, handing over the gift bag to Rebecca.

"They're just jealous," Rebecca tells her, "Even with having my brother's child, Natasha still can't find it in her cold hearted heart to be nice to you."

"She doesn't owe me anything."

"Now that's not true. She owes you a lot, and the least she can do is be nice, especially with my mother throwing her this baby shower and allowing her to live with us until she and Bucky find a place."

"She's living here?" Elizabeth asked, surprised to hear that. Bucky never mentioned Nat living with them, they did know that they were looking at places closer to his job and school.

"Yeah, she moved in probably two months ago, when she really started to show," Rebecca tells her, "Apparently she hadn't told her dad, and once she started showing she had to confess. He kicked her out. Said she was ruining her life."

"That's intense," Elizabeth said.

"Yup. So my mom and Keith are letting her stay until they find a place of their own," Rebecca says, "And as much as I love my brother I can't wait til she's gone. He's an idiot for knocking her up."

"She can't be that bad," Liz said trying to give Nat the benefit of the doubt.

"Trust me Liz, she is. Being pregnant has made her a complete devil," Rebecca stresses, "My mom is way too nice to have that be the mother of her first grandchild."

Before Liz could respond to that, someone came up behind her.

"Oh Becky, I wanted the gifts to be color coordinated," Natasha remarked, with her hand on her belly.

"My mom told me to do it by size," Rebecca rolled her eyes, "And my name's Rebecca."

"But Becky is so cute."

"No it's not," Rebecca argued.

"Hi Natasha," Elizabeth awkwardly greeted, breaking up the conversation.

"Oh hi Elizabeth," Natasha stiffly said, forcing a smile on her face as she rubs her belly, "Didn't think you would show up."

"Oh, well Steve told Bucky we were coming," she explains.

"Of course he did."

"You look pretty," Elizabeth complimented her to try and break the tension.

"I know. I'm absolutely glowing carrying Bucky's child," she replied with a snarky tone.

"I'm really happy for you both."

"Sure you are," she rolled her eyes.

"No, I truly am. That's why I actually wanted to talk to you about. I was wondering if maybe we can get together sometime this next week, to talk," Liz suggests.

"There's no need," Nat tells her, "I get what you're doing. You think that getting on my good graces will put you in Bucky's good graces, but I hate to break it to you, that's not going to happen. I'm trying my best here to be polite to you, but once this baby is born, I'll make sure Bucky no longer makes time for you and Steve. I am his life now, and we don't have space in it for you both."

"Nat-"

"Thanks for the gift, hopefully the gift receipt is in the bag," Natasha fake smiled, "Enjoy the party."

"Fix the gifts Becky," she turned to Rebecca enunciating 'Becky', before walking away to go back to her friends.

"Told you she was the devil," Rebecca commented, ignoring Natasha's request.

"Yeah, you weren't lying," Elizabeth turned to look at Nat who was laughing with her friends.

Steve and Elizabeth said their final goodbyes a couple of hours later, and walked back to their rental car.

"That went well, don't you think?" Steve commented on as he started the car.

"Yeah it did," she lied.

Elizabeth decided it was probably best not to bring it up to Steve. He and Bucky just fixed their relationship, that she was afraid if she told Steve that Bucky wouldn't believe them. She would just have to hope that Bucky wouldn't allow their friendship to take another hit. She had faith that their friendship was stronger than that.

"Do you mind if we made a stop somewhere?" Steve asks her as he pulls away from the curb.

"No, of course not."

"Perfect. We just have to make one quick pit stop before," he says a few minutes later, parking in a parking lot of a cafe.

Steve walked back out of the cafe with a picnic basket.

"What's that for?" She asked smiling as he got in, putting the basket in the backseat.

"Just wait and see," he winked.

15 minutes later they were pulling up to a park.

"A park?"

"Thought we could have an impromptu picnic date," he smiles, "Wait here."

He got out of the car and grabbed the basket from the backseat. She heard him close and open the trunk. He then opened her door.

"Mi lady," he held his hand open for her to take.

"Oh why thank-you kind sir," she giggled taking his hand.

He led her to a nice spot on top of a hill, overlooking the park.

"Can you hold this for me real quick," he asked, holding out the picnic basket for her.

She took it from him as he laid out the blanket. Steve took the basket back and started to unpack the contents and laid them out on the blanket for them.

"A little dinner at sunset," he offered his hand so she can sit down next to him on the blanket.

"This was perfect Steve," she kissed his cheek, as they finished off their little dinner.

"Just thought I'd thank-you for coming with me today," he says wrapping his arm around her, as she leaned into him.

"You don't have to thank me."

"I know I don't, but I want to. I know you say you were fine with today, and I completely believe you, but I also know that even if you're okay with it, it's still can be uncomfortable," he says, "So I just want to show you how appreciative I am of you."

"I love you," she leans her head up to capture his lips with her's.

Age: 27

Year: 2021

Location: Brooklyn, NY

"Steve whats with the blind fold," Elizabeth giggled in the passenger seat of their rental car.

"It's a surprise," he laughed, "Now just be patient, we're almost there."

"Steve, come on you know I hate surprises."

"You liked the last surprise I gave you," he teased.

"It was a kitten, that's different," she smiled.

"You still loved it," he said, "Plus we're here already."

"Oh that was quick," she said reaching to take her blindfold off.

"Don't," he warned her, "Not yet."

Steve helped her out of the car, and linked their arms together as he led her to the surprise.

"Okay, we're here," he nervously said, he took her blindfold off.

Liz adjusted her eyes after being in the dark for the past 30 minutes. When she opened her eyes, she was greeted with a lantern lit up picnic on top of the hill at the park.

"Surprise," Steve said behind her.

Liz turned around to find Steve down on one knee, with an opened ring box.

"Steve," she gasped.

He took her left hand into his own.

"Elizabeth Carolina Sanchez, words can't even explain how much I am in love with you, but I'm going to try. I don't think i can remember back to a time where you weren't a part of my life, and honestly i don't want to. You've made me so incredibly happy these last almost seven years, and no matter how much I say I'm appreciate of you, i don't think it's ever going to be enough. Getting to wake up to you every day to you smiling at me, honestly i don't think there's a greater thing in the world. I'd give the entire world, if it meant that I got to see you smile every day of my life. I don't ever want to imagine a life without you. You've made me the best person I could ever want to be. There's not a day that doesn't go by where you don't continuously tell me how proud you are of me, and the endless amount of support and love you've given me. There's no one I'd rather spend my entire life with. Start a family with. Be a family with. So, Elizabeth, will you do me the greatest honor of marrying me?"

"Yes," Elizabeth choked out, as the tears streamed down her face. She lunged herself into Steve's arms and kissed him.

"I love you so much," she cried.

"I love you too," he said, pulling her into another kiss.

They pulled away, and Steve placed the ring on her finger.

"I love you," she said again.

[mittensmorgul]

do we know why the boys were not allowed to have facial hair on the show? i feel like it was more in character than to assume sam and dean had to time to just always be clean shaven in the middle of apocalypses, being demons or possessed, fighting gods ect. on the flip side, im still confused as to how cas grew facial hair in purgatory when i didnt think that was something that happened to angel vessels?

Hi there! There's actually quite a bit going on in this question (I think this is my way of saying sorry it's taken me a few days to get to it :'D)

I'll start by saying I don't think it was a matter of "not allowed" to have facial hair, but it's actually more complicated than that. Not to mention Dean especially was almost never what I'd call "clean shaven" outside of when they were beginning a hunt and posing as FBI.

There's a video I think on the s1 dvd's called something like "a day in the life of Jared and Jensen". Wait... I found it on the youtube...

It's only about 10 minutes long, and if you haven't seen it, it's worth watching all of it. It was shot during the filming of 1.20 Dead Man's Blood, so they hadn't even been at this a full year yet. About 2 1/2 minutes in, they go through hair and makeup, and talk about shaving.

Back in s1, Sam had to be more clean shaven to look younger, and Dean had to have a bit of scruff just to look a bit older. So at first it was to visually make their ages more obvious. But it's also about continuity on camera. Remember, each episode of supernatural was filmed over eight weekdays (with a couple days for weekends in the middle). Episodes are NOT filmed in scene order. It would make it almost impossible to show normal, chronological beard growth over the span of two weeks of filming, you know?

If they film scene 38 first, then scene 12, then scene 19, then scene 2 over the course of four days, their facial hair has to remain believably consistent, not grow and shrink :'D So having a designated easily duplicatable facial hair style (and hair cut, because head hair can grow noticeably in two weeks, too, especially when it's as short as Jensen's on the sides/back) makes visual continuity actually possible. Especially when they're filming entire EPISODES out of airing order.

Think about Jensen's beard in the AU bunker battle scene in the beginning of 15.04. That was the first episode filmed of s15, and those were the first SHOTS filmed of s15 before Jensen shaved off his hiatus beard for the rest of the season. Those scenes were probably filmed in a single day, two at most, before he had to resume "standard Dean." Also think about Demon Dean's slightly longer hair that went back to normal, or Sam's beard from the first three episodes of s14 before he shaved in 14.04. Those times the longer hair/facial hair was used to show a lack of self-care for various reasons.

I think Cas's Purgatory beard was used to show the same. He was doing "penance" in his own mind, but I do think it was also the seeds of his entire depression arc that would run right through 15.18 and then never get an actual resolution (sorry, I had to at least grumble about that a little bit...). I remember Jensen saying when he asked why Dean was clean-shaven in Purgatory and Cas wasn't, he was told by someone that "Dean has knives," and would actually continue shaving for some reason, while Cas wouldn't even bother using his grace/powers to maintain his appearance there.

I don't believe the show has ever made any sort of statement about angel vessels NOT growing hair/facial hair. Plus by this point in the series, we really do have to consider that Cas's body, not as much his vessel anymore. Jimmy was long gone, and the last at least two times Cas had been resurrected, that body was also remade for him. We're at least two degrees of remove from that being a normal vessel, so even if angel vessels aren't "supposed to" grow hair or change their appearance, Cas would have an exception asterisk attached. :'D

The thing is, we HAVE seen other angels change the appearance of their vessels. I mean... Lucifer, for one, especially in s13. He grew scruff, looked messy, etc. And it was explained to be a result of having been imprisoned and his grace seriously depleted to the point he couldn't even perform small magical tasks for himself.

So why did Cas grow scruff in Purgatory? Because television is a visual storytelling medium. If you had a friend in real life who usually looked like Cas normally does, and then saw him after months and saw the guy Dean found in Purgatory, what would your immediate thoughts be about how that friend had been doing lately? Did similar thoughts about how Cas's last few months in Purgatory alone, running from Leviathans, staying alive primarily to keep the Leviathans focused on HIM instead of on Dean?

I think the phrase "run ragged" applies to Cas's Purgatory look. Sometimes facial scruff combined with smudged on dirt is the fastest visual shorthand for "yikes this guy has had it rough lately." Hence his "get clean" scene in 8.07 restoring him entirely to "normal," including clean-shaven and a decent haircut somehow. I think he'd been entirely able to have given himself that look in Purgatory, but he just never bothered to. For whatever reason, Dean did bother. And that was part of the visual narrative telling us that Dean still cared, and that Cas (outside of his mission of keeping the leviathan away from Dean) didn't.

Like, even when Cas was human in early s9, when he was on the run and homeless, even when he was given opportunity to shave his scruff (at the beginning of the episode while brushing his teeth, and at the end after showering at the bunker and before being kicked out) he still retained the scruff. The next time we saw him in 9.06, when he was settling into his "new human life" as a sales associate, even though we understand he's still technically homeless, he's actually maintaining his appearance, demonstrated by his care for himself and the fact he bothered to shave. For him, it was a visual signifier of his growing to accept himself.

To go way back up to that video above, in the makeup trailer are dozens of photos of different looks for each of them. Yes, some are purely silly, but even as shown in 6.15 The French Mistake (the "I'm a painted whore!" scene) are a few similar continuity photos. Every day of filming, every change to makeup and hair (including FX makeup showing wounds, bruises, etc.) has to be documented for the sake of continuity. Or you'd have an episode with alternating scenes of them having longer/shorter/longer facial hair over the course of what's supposed to be a single day on screen. The easiest way to maintain that continuity is character consistency, only having a drastically different look occasionally, for a specific reason.

So why couldn't they have chosen to go with a beard for an entire season? It's just as easy to maintain beard consistency day to day on set as it is to just have them shave to scruff, right? Crowley did that... he was clean-shaven the first few seasons he was on the show, and then grew the beard, so why not Sam and Dean?

As I said above, the visual language of the show actually means something. These aren't real people who might casually decide to grow facial hair for fashion reasons. They're fictional characters being used to tell a specific story. Their appearance and their clothing choices are visual shorthand to give us information about their current mental state, their internal priorities, etc. It's all part of the story, and in this story, Sam and Dean generally care enough to maintain their chosen physical appearance. They only seem to grow beards when they're either being run ragged or otherwise lack the ability to care for themselves, whether by choice or by circumstance.

I think it's less "they were not allowed to grow beards" and more "this would not be in character in the visual language of the show."

[moriartysnerd]

Jim Moriarty x fem reader Harry Potter! AU

An: this is kinda short, not really anything big. Just a cute little story. I want to start writing more one shot story’s in this AU. There will be many more parts, I just needed some soft fluf, tell me if there’s anything specific you’d like to see!

_______________________________

How you loathed mornings. The sun had finally just begun to hit your eyes as you awoke to the soft click of the dorm room door closing and giggling slowly fading away behind it. You finally managed to open your eyes and looked around. Everything around your bed was so clean, and all the other girls had left. The images of what you and sherlock did last night flashed in your mind. You where always so tired after a revision night with the ravenclaw. You struggled to keep up with him half the time, you couldn’t imagine how you two had become friends in the passing years but there was no getting rid of him. You wiped your eyes clean before getting up and preparing yourself for the day. Sherlock seemed to of gotten everything ready for you. Even folded your uniform. The neat freak. You smiled to yourself, slipping into your attire and then reaching for your tie. It was blue. Not only was it blue, it wasn’t yours. Sherlock’s cologne swiftly surrounded you as you picked it up. He’d taken the wrong tie. No. Of course he hadn’t. Sherlock Holmes didn’t make such simple mistakes. He was either marking you, or he wanted to tell you somthing. Either way, unless you wanted house points off you had to wear a tie. Unfortunately, you wernt in the mood to deal with a professor harassing you over somthing so simple. It was settled. You’d wear it.

It felt like it took you forever to get ready that morning, the minutes where dragging and so where your feet. Finally your hands reached for your bag, tossing it over a shoulder and groaning at the heaviness. Seems Sherlock had packed that too. You groaned in defeat as you realised you wouldn’t have the time to resort you bag and headed out of your room and down the stairs, making your way out of the common room. It still made you laugh to think that Sherlock had some how found a way to sneak passed the magic and get himself into the girls dorm room. He was bright, you’d give him that. He was also somewhat of a charmer. Always helping the other girls in your dorm room, Or waiting outside when any of them needed to change. He was more than welcome to say he wasn’t really a people’s person, but most of all. The girls loved the drama he could indulge. Sherlock could deduce things so easily with substantial evidence. He was a drama whore, he just didn’t admit it. He’d figure things out about couples, teachers, classes the works. It was like a super power. It even had its perks. He was a bright wizard and you where somewhat in his shadow, it didn’t help that people constantly doubted your intelligence. Thinking you where only friends with Sherlock so you could pass classes. You worked your ass off for those grades. With or without Sherlock.

You stumbled your way into the great hall, sighing softly when their was no sign of Sherlock. Of course he wasn’t going to make this easy for you. He had your tie, he wanted something. You walked past a table, picking up an apple and taking gentle bites out of it, the noise of people chattering filled your eyes as you stared up at the huge Christmas tree in the corner. That’s right, Sherlock would be going home for Christmas. He’d invited you, but you’d declined. Christmas was for family after all. You smiled a little shaking Your head, you had Netflix and chocolates for Christmas. Plus most if not all the girls in your dorm would be gone. A practically empty school. Perfection.

You hadn’t noticed how far you’d wondered out of the great hall until you’d made your way to the whomping Willow tree. You knew not to get too close, she didn’t like that. You sighed softly as the wind blew through your hair, letting the breeze comfort you effortlessly.

“Blue tie L/N? Honestly, that man has you collared like a mutt.”

The Irish voice broke the silence, you didn’t face him. Moriarty. You knew it. You could feel it in your stomach. You and Moriarty weren’t really on speaking terms, he’d been harassing Sherlock a lot this month and you’d always been the one having to comfort the Ravenclaw after Moriarty visits. It didn’t help that Moriarty and Sherlock both shared a house. They where both Ravenclaws. Both so alike yet so different. Sherlock found it impossible to sleep in the same room as the man stood behind you. That had started the whole “study nights with Sherlock” thing. Sherlock would sleep with you, unbeknownst to the teachers, you where close. You wanted him to be safe.

You took yet another bite of your apple, the sour taste now running down your tongue and slipping down your throat. It was bitter. You threw the apple towards the willow tree and it sprang into action, destroying it in seconds. It was almost a warning. A warning for James to back off. Maybe he couldn’t find Sherlock either and that’s why he wanted to play with you. You wanted to tell you darker male to leave you alone, to push past him and never see him agian, but you couldn’t. In an odd way he had you wrapped around his finger, and only he knew that.

“I came out here looking for Sherlock. He has my tie. I wasn’t going to risk the house points.”

You stated, Still defiant and refusing to look at him. You knew it made his blood boil. He was taking time to give you attention. Attention that wasn’t being reciprocated.

“Didnt you hear? He left this morning.”

Those words rang in your ears as you swallowed dryly. He left without saying goodbye? It was stupid, of course it was, but it still bothered you. You two where always together. Then he just leaves? You thought you’d atleast get another week with him before he left for Christmas. You shook your head silently, finally looking into Moriartys deep eyes. Your stomach couldn’t handle it for too long as you looked away.

“Whoops. Have I told you something I shouldn’t? You should be used to this though, shouldn’t you? You’re always second best to him. If he leaves you. He still has John. Who do you have L/N?”

He practically sang those words but that didn’t stop the truth from hitting. You where going to be alone on Christmas. No matter what way you looked at it. Moriartys eyes softened as he looked down at you, was it pity? Possibly. You never knew with this man.

“He has a family. Which is more than either of us have. He’s his own person. He can leave if he wants too.”

You gently gripped Sherlock’s tie and pushed past moriarty, swiftly walking back inside. You weren’t about to doubt your best friend over this. No way. The day slowly blew over, you had been bored out of your mind without Sherlock. He annoyed the hell out of you, without him even magic couldn’t keep you entertained. 4 o’clock eventually chimed and you made your way to the library, there was one thing you could do that would pass the time. Work. You spent a good few hours revising alone. Picking out books and writing. Even practicing a few non-threatening spells while alone. You grew tired early, the sun just beginning to set as you put your last few books away, packing up your things and wandering down the empty corridor your ears picked up the soft Irish chuckle of moriarty once agian.

His laugh was sweet, it belonged in the hearts of millions. It was a shame it belonged to such a horrid person. You continued towards his voice, your feet moving without your mind even telling you too. He was stood near an open window, watching the sunset. He had quietened down and whatever he was laughing at had long since passed. Your hands traced the wall as you came up behind him, staring at the sunset, unsure of what to say. You knew this man. You knew him well. However once you started hanging around with Sherlock, you drifted. He was no longer the most important man in your life.

“It’s nice hearing you laugh agian..”

You spoke softly, looking up at moriarty, he didn’t even glance at you, but still acknowledged you. You gripped Sherlock’s tie a little tighter as you looked down. You felt the gentle touch of a hand brush yours as moriarty moved to hold your hand, still staring out. It was golden hour. Everything was beautiful. It was as if nothing had changed between you two.

“I do miss you sometimes darling, i must admit I hate how Sherlock acts like he owns you.”

Moriarty spoke gently, weaving a hand around your waste and holding you from behind, head placed on top of yours. Neither yours nor his eyes left from the gorgeous veiw of the lake just outside the window. Everything in that moment felt so right. You couldn’t even stop yourself from your own thoughts. They where a mess. Leaving you confused and somewhat brave. You couldn’t even prepare yourself for what was to come, but one string of words slipped out and for once, you where glad they did.

“Spend Christmas with me jim....”

[cinnamontoastandtears]

thank you for the tags @mithranqueer and @rufusrant vv happy that y’all thought of me haha 💕 (and thanks for the awesome questions @dustino)

have you ever written rpf before, or are the beatles the first you’ve ever done it for?

yeah, no, the beatles are the first and most likely the only rpf thing i’ll ever write. i’ve written fictional character ones before that but they were shitty so the first thing i ever posted was beatles too.

what’s your favorite ship to write and why?

starrison... because it just is, i have really no idea. they have the dynamic of the kind of relationship i want, i guess, (plus majorly awesome side-character energy) so yeah.

easiest beatle to write?

george. his personality is scarily similar to mine, so all i really have to do is think how i’d handle (x) situation.

hardest beatle to write?

paul. which is strange bc every mclennon fic ive ever written is from his perspective lmao. i think it’s hard for me to write him because i don’t actually like him very much and he gets on my nerves.

original era or modern au?

modern, but i can tolerate original if i throw period-typical homophobia in the bin. don’t like writing that.

least favorite pair to write?

mcharrison.. mostly cause they’re just such great friends and ugh, will die for some good mcharrison bromance (writing a fic like that now lmao...)

do you read or write more?

write, sorry to every fic ive ignored, but multi-chapters stress me out so much especially if they already have upwards of like 10,000 words. (very sorry if i’ve ignored your work, it’s really not your fault i promise) if i catch a multi chapter in its first couple updates i’m more inclined to read it. (but yeah, i write way more to the point where i have several almost finished fics in my drive, expect a week soon where i just post them all ahajkdks)

aus or canon compliant?

i mean i guess modern au if that counts? or them as like, anything but musicians because that’s hilarious.

ship you’d like to see more of?

uhhh... lenstarr or lennison (create the content you wish to see)

au/trope you want to see more of?

nothing specific. (but i love drunken confessions and bed-sharing, specifically together)

fanfic trope pet peeve?

ARCHETYPE BEATLES. archetype beatles can fucking kiss my ass. no sweeter-than-sweet ringo, depressed/moody/angry george, way-too-much-of-a-“leader” john, and paul the a) over-the-top drama queen or b) the Most Serious About Music™️. hate those. please be complex :))

prefer to write one shots or multi chaptered fics?

oneshots. but i did just start a multi chapter one you can read here if you’re interested 👀 (it’s sort of crack, idk if that hurts or helps)

on a scale from one to ten, how much has fanfiction taken over your life?

like maybe 6-7. it’s a lot.

do you have an author you look up to?

YES. literally all of them omg. seriously @mithranqueer @measuredoutinyears @dusted-0negin @celeste-fitzgerald @rufusrant @muzaktomyears @blobfishmiffy you all are very cool and i always feel very nervous to talk to you 😌

what’s a fic you can’t get tired of no matter how many times you read?

(time to sift through my bookmarks)

by @measuredoutinyears

a love that’s shining all around here - starrison (literally the first beatles fic in my bookmarks)

because you’re sweet and lovely - starrison (oh my god)

by @mithranqueer

baby, you’re a rich man - starrison (ahhhhhhh them as mob members is crazy and perfect and you know??)

by @blobfishmiffy

beatle toast (but gayer) - lennison (vv accurate for their dynamic)

a push in the right direction - starrison (the obliviousness and denial and the lenstarr bromance = everything)

by @celeste-fitzgerald

if this was a movie - starrison (i think the first time i read this i had to get up it was just so sweet)

by no particular author i know the tumblr url of:

peppermint kisses - mclennon (it’s christmas fluff i mean come on)

drunken lovers. - starrison (what did i say about drunken confessions)

attracts me like no other lover - george/everyone with endgame starrison (not sad but made me cry)

do you have a current fic obsession?

will you be mad if i say my own?

how seriously do you take fic writing?

not as serious as i should maybe, if you measure how much i don’t try and how much i live off of people’s praise :D

tags before the nsfw: ... @muzaktomyears (vv sorry if this is like the third or fourth tag, but y’all already talked about some of my favorites)

do sex positions (top/bottom) effect your enjoyment when reading or writing a fic?

kind of ?? more in the next question

do you have a preference over who’s who at all? if you do, then what are they?

in lieu of the confusing answer i had, here’s the six main ones:

mclennon: top john

starrison: prefer top george but either one is fine

lennison: top george

mcharrison: either way

mcstarr: mostly top ringo, maybe top paul

lenstarr: top ringo

this stems from the deal that if i read a ship and one or another of them is the top the possibility of me being able to picture it another way goes down (like first come, first served sort of)

is there any kind of kink you have to fight back including in every fic?

nor unless you count dirty talk which i always put in there anyway

when do you feel comfortable adding a smut scene in your fic, if it matters to you at all?

i guess in truth, i’ve only written a couple of fics (posted and unposted) with smut in them, and in a decent half of them i used sex to represent a deeper emotional connection rather than, like, because i was horny (but i have like 4 of those too so if you want i could..) /hj

[neptunetheplanet7]

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐞𝐧 - 𝐜𝐞𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐮𝐬

DM ME IF YOU WOULD LIKE TO BE PUT ON THE TAGLIST!!

;mikasa ackerman x fem!lesbian!reader

;modern au, band au

word count: 2.4k

warnings: swearing, angst IF YOU SQUINT

listen to the music masterlist

prev | next

Groggily wiping your closed eyes, you awoke from a deep sleep. It didn't take long to realize the sheets around you weren't yours. You weren't in your bedroom. You weren't even in your house.

You sat up on the pullout, more alert. Rubbing the sides of your head with your fingertips, you desperately tried to put the pieces of last night together. The clock next to the unmounted flat-screen told you it was two pm. What happened to you?

"Good morning, honey bunny! Or should I say good afternoon?" The cheery voice that broke your confused silence was easy to recognize as Sasha.

What you were doing in the living room of her apartment, you didn't know.  You turned around to see her cooking food for the two of you.

The early events of the night before were clear as day when you retraced your steps. Catching up with everyone, Hitch, Zeke's fiasco, and dancing around were all things you had no issue recalling. 

However, there was one last detail just out of your grasp. Dancing with your friends. . . then with Mikasa. . . but what happened after that? Was it- oh, fuck.

Realization set in and you scrambled off the couch. Clothes from the night clung to your body as you stumbled into Sasha's bright kitchen.

Sitting down on a stool with wide eyes earned you a concerned look. Sasha raised an eyebrow. "Are you okay, Y/n? You look a little sick."

You shook your head. "I'm such an idiot. Can you believe I kissed her? I bet she didn't even want to."

She chuckled and pushed a plate of food in front of you. "From what I remember, she's the one who initiated it."

"I can't remember anything that happened after that. Fill me in?" You started eating your breakfast as you awaited their answer.

"Well, to put it simply, you fainted."

"What?!"

"Yeah, right after you pulled away. You were just out after that. It's really weird how that happened, actually," She put a finger to her chin as she reminisced.

The food on your fork toppled off as you stilled in shock. "Sasha! You better be joking! That's so embarrassing, oh my god."

In an instant, she was leaning over the table to steady your frantic gesticulating arms.

"Hey, hey, honey bunny. Don't freak out. We were all pretty worried about you. Nobody laughed if that's any comfort to you. To help out Marco, I took you back here after I dropped off Connie. He didn't need to worry about you when he had the three drunk idiots to drive home." She took your free hand in hers.

"I should probably text them so they know I'm okay." You left your food unattended as you walked back to the couch to look for your discarded phone. Sasha took it as a sign that you were done and helped herself to the meal.

"I got a picture of you two if you wanna see it," she said nonchalantly through a mouthful of food.

You stopped your searching. "What? Mikasa and I? When?"

"Well, I got a few, actually. I have one of you dancing with her and one of you kissing her. And some others from when Connie and I were joking around."

"Sasha, why?" you groaned. "I already get enough cameras in my face."

She shrugged and continued eating your breakfast. You moved the couch pillows around in hopes of finding your phone.

A reoccurring buzz vibrated the carpet under the pulled-out mattress. You reached under to grab whatever the noise came from.

Luckily, it was your phone. Unluckily, it was blowing up with texts from Jean and Eren. The familiar ringtone sounded as a call from Jean came through. You rushed to pick it up.

"Hello? Jean? Woah, slow down, what's going on?" You could barely make sense of his frantic words on the other side of the line. 

"Y/n, thank god you picked up. Armin's hurt. We're heading to the hospital right now. We think he has a concussion or something."

"What? Oh my god, what happened? How is he?"

"We'll explain later. Come when you can. It's the same hospital we went to when Eren broke his arm."

"Got it, Jean. I'll be there. Keep him safe."

"Of course."

He hung up. You started towards the front door. "We have to go, Sasha."

"Why? What happened? You sound pretty worried. At least change before you got out. I have a spare set of clothes for you," she offered, already on the way to their bedroom.

"No time. I'll change on the way to the hospital." You unlocked the door. 

"The what?" Their confusion and worry were clear from their tone. Despite that, she nodded and frantically reached for her car keys, extra outfit already in hand.

Once she got a hold of them, you both jumped in the car and set off to the hospital.

"What the hell happened to you?" You were seated on the left side of the hospital bed with the rest of your bandmates scattered throughout the bland room.

"To tell you the truth, I fell down a flight of stairs," Armin said sheepishly.

"With a light push from Eren," Mikasa added.

"I didn't mean to push him! I bumped into him!"

"Yeah, nice one, Eren. You're a certified douchebag." Jean rolled his eyes.

"Coming from you, Jean, that's rich." Eren glared back at him.

"Man, why couldn't Eren fall down the stairs." Armin clawed at the bandage on his head in annoyance. "This thing is itchy."

"It's because you are stupid, and I am not," Eren fired back. You snorted.

"Oh yeah, definitely. Remind me who graduated early from college and who dropped out again?"

He scowled. "You dropped out too, idiot."

"Right, but I did it for the band. You did it because it was too hard," you snickered.

"Damn, Y/n. Go a little easy on me, will you? I spent my whole morning at the police station." He pinched the bridge of his nose like he had a headache.

Confused, you looked at Mikasa, hoping for an explanation. She avoided your eyes and stared at the ground instead. It was the third time she wouldn't directly look at you since you got there.

Armin noticed the interaction and frowned. "He went to get Zeke out of jail," they explained.

Eren sighed. "That was the plan. Until I changed my mind. The bail was a lot of money and, frankly, with all the shit he did, it wasn't worth it. It's a shame he'll miss my birthday again but what good would he cause anyways."

"Oh, I see." 

As distraught as he was the night prior, Eren was able to toughen up with Zeke instead of letting him back into his life so easily. It was admirable he could do such a thing after his previous reactions to Zeke's shenanigans. 

"What did he even do? I guess he pawned that guy's wedding ring but isn't he banned from Nebraska?" Jean pondered.

"Well, he didn't lie about some things. He is several million dollars in debt and he was on the run from the police. Explains why he looked like he was gonna shit his pants when the cops showed up last night," Eren said.

"Okay, but what did he do specifically?" Jean asked again.

"Oh, right. He robbed banks like it was a game. The motherfucker was literally bank hopping around Nebraska. Plus, he stole a bunch of shit from people and pawned it all. There were so many complaints filed against him that he was banned from a ton of pawnshops. He wasn't banned from the state. Just enough places that he felt like he was."

Jean's jaw dropped. "How many banks did he rob?"

Eren shrugged. "Around thirty."

"Thirty? What the hell is that guy on?" he mumbled.

You were surprised as well but glad it wasn't worse. Still, you couldn't believe that he'd been staying with you for less than a week and he already stirred up a whirlwind of problems.

Silence had fallen over the room for a moment before Armin broke it. "Y/n, can I talk to you for a minute? Alone," he said.

"Sure." You were curious about what he had to say to you. He'd been all fidgety during the whole half hour you were there.

Eren and Jean turned from their position on either side of the door and walked out. Mikasa stood from her seat to follow. She shot you one last glance but looked away before your eyes could meet.

Once the three were gone, you scooted your chair closer to the bed.

"What's up?"

Armin's brows furrowed as he brought his nail between his teeth. "Do you know what's going on with Mikasa? She's been acting weird all day. She's always been the closed-off type but she hasn't said more than a few words to us all day."

You frowned. If Mikasa was not only avoiding you but the others too, you could only assume what was on her mind. 

"You don't remember last night? Is amnesia a result of the fall?"

He blinked, confusion still evident. "No, I don't think so. Eren and Jean are just as clueless as I am."

Then you remembered how drunk the three of them were the night before. They must've lost track of things after having enough drinks. So Mikasa hadn't bothered to fill them in.

You tugged at Sasha's shirt collar nervously. "Mikasa kissed me." Armin's mouth fell open. Words came out fast as you tried to explain, "Or I kissed her. It's a little fuzzy, I fainted afterward. Sasha said Mikasa initiated it, though." 

"You- she what? You actually- wait, you fainted? Y/n, are you okay?" The panic in his voice rose as the confusion dissolved.

You placed a hand on his upper arm to stop him from sitting all the way up. "I'm fine. Don't worry about me. I'm not the one in the hospital bed, after all."

He smiled at that. "I guess that's true. But anyway, how was it?"

You felt your face heat up. You weren't expecting them to be so forward. Clearing your throat, you replied, "The kiss was. . . yeah, I'd say it was good."

They grinned. "I'm glad you finally acted on those feelings. Christ's sake, Y/n. You've liked her for how many years now?"

You smiled shyly. "Jeez, I don't know. Quite a few. But don't get your hopes up or anything. She clearly thinks it was a mistake."

Armin's smile disappeared. "You've gotta stop thinking like that. More likely than not, she needs some time to process. You know she gets reserved when she has to think."

So reserved to leave for two years?  Yeah, you knew. You were beginning to believe her behavior would lead to worse.

The blonde seemed to sense something deeper was nagging at you. "Wait, have you ever actually talked about what happened? I figured you spoke to Eren but now that I think about it, whenever anyone brought her up you shut it down."

That was enough to get you thinking. When Mikasa was gone, your friends knew better than to ask about her. Armin was right, you always shut it down. 

You never spoke about how her disappearance made you feel. You never even wanted to think about it. There were times when you couldn't push the feelings away anymore. Times when you couldn't do anything but cry.

Whenever that happened, you made a beeline for Eren. He was the only one you knew wouldn't pry. You never had to say anything. He would just understand. He never told anyone. He never complained. He never asked. He let you cry until you couldn't anymore. He was someone you were very grateful for.

Mikasa's leave was something that affected you more than you let on. Even if it was easy to tell that it was hard for you to deal with, no one knew the extent to which it was.

Remembering that time brought back every feeling you never dwelled on. You couldn't go through it all again. You knew why it was hard to think positively about that kiss.

"I don't want her to leave," you whispered, voice coming out more shaky than you intended. "I can't do it, not again."

Armin looked surprised. "Do you think she'd leave again? Why?"

Lifting your head, your gaze shifted from the floor to his wide blue eyes. "The last time something impacted her emotions so quickly she left us."

He nodded as realization dawned on him. "But the difference between now and then is that this is a positive thing. Come on, Y/n, I'm not blind. Before she and Jean were together, you were dancing around each other for years. Even Jean was shocked when she asked him out and not you."

You thought about that for a moment. Right he was again. There were always moments between you and her before Jean. You always thought you two had an unspoken connection until she asked him out. It seemed others thought so as well.

You smiled hopefully. "Yeah, you're right. Maybe this is a good thing. I mean, I've had these feelings for years so maybe it's good I finally acted on them."

They smiled back. "Hope so. Just give her some time and she'll come around. It's Mikasa, of all people she would never ignore-"

The door banged open just as Armin was finishing his sentence.

Eren stood in the doorway with his phone held up and Mikasa and Jean not far behind.

"Hannes called. Couldn't wait any longer to ask. Are you two down for a performance at the beginning of next month?" He exhaled heavily, out of breath for some reason. "Mikasa and Jean here are already on board."

"You're coming back to the band, Mikasa?" Armin asked.

"Yeah. I miss it," Mikasa said quietly.

"Of course I'm down. It's been so long since we've performed," you chimed.

"So it's settled then. First performance in three months plus Mikasa's big comeback on April 2nd," Jean confirmed.

posted: 9/15/21

neptunetheplanet7© 2021

no reposts, edits, or modification to my work by anyone other than me.

[maybedefinitely404]

American Dream

Genre: angst with a happy ending/fluff

Pairing: romantic Dukexiety 

World: just-out-of-high-school AU

Content: homophobia, threatened abuse from parents (no actual violence), extreme cold, getting kicked out, minor religious talk, getting outed, AIDS and death mention, fluffy Dukexiety because my heart needs it.

Word count: 2.3k

Comments: She doesn’t have Tumblr, but I need to give a shout out to my kiddo for proof reading and beta-ing most of my fics. She pushes me to write more, and even if she won’t see this, I just need to say it.  

This fic is inspired by the song American Dream by MKTO.

Please pick up, please pick up, please pick up… 

The night coolness spread through Virgil like a sickness. It was unforgiving, toxic, seeped with the memories of the evening that curled through his stomach in dark tendrils. Below his bare feet, the sidewalk burned in the way that only ice does, small pebbles digging into his soles. He would do anything for socks. God, why hadn’t he grabbed socks? 

Probably for the same reason he hadn’t grabbed shoes. 

Please pick up, please pick up, c’mon, pick up already!

His eyes hurt. They already burned with unshed tears that he’d still been too scared to release, and the cool air didn’t help. Crying on the street was a vulnerability he wasn’t ready to face. His lungs burned. He’d been sprinting non-stop for who knows how long. His own panicked gulps for air and the all-too-loud hum of a blinking streetlight were the only sound on the silent street. Virgil had been watching the moths swarm at the fixture for who knows how long, finding odd solace in the fact that at least there was still some life in the darkness. They were still alive, untouched, same as they were yesterday and probably the same as they would be tomorrow, unfazed by the complete turmoil his life had become. And that was somewhat comforting. 

“Virgie, you okay? It’s almost midnight!”

Thank fucking god. He opened his mouth to speak, to explain to Remus what had happened. Obviously, Remus would care. That wasn’t a doubt in his mind; that was the only reason he wasn’t anxious as all fuck right now… about the call, that is. He was anxious about approximately everything else. But as soon as the first noise made its way past his lips, the first utterance of a plea for help, everything that he’d been holding back burst forth like a broken dam. He clamped his hand over his mouth, trying to muffle the loud sobbing that he suddenly couldn’t contain.

“Shit. Virgil, what happened? I’m coming over. Are you at home?”

That’s the issue. “No,” he gasped, mildly surprised he hadn’t crushed the phone with the way his grip tightened, “I got kicked out.”

“What the fuck?!”

Virgil flinched. “Can… can you come p-pick me up? I’m at the corner of Jackson and Pullard. Please, please, come get me…”

“Yes. Absolutely. I’m on my way. Stay there, okay?”

Virgil hung up reluctantly after agreeing, not wanting his boyfriend to drive while on the phone, even if Remus gladly would have done it. In fact, he’d used to do it all the time; text, eat, do his makeup, all while cruising down the freeway. He’d only put a stop to it when he saw how much it affected Virgil.  

He counted down the minutes on his phone, always having been nitpicky with times, knowing that it shouldn’t take Remus more than ten minutes to get there. If he remembered correctly where he was at the moment, that is. Remus had gotten kicked out of his parents’ house in his senior year of high school after a bad fight. They’d never really been great parents, always showing favoritism towards his brother (amongst other things), and he was more than willing to leave. Virgil had tried to beg his parents to let Remus stay with them, but they’d downright refused, calling him a bad influence and a string of other insults that Virgil didn’t even like to think about. God forbid what would happen if they found out the two were dating.

…Well, they did now. And God hadn’t exactly forbidden what they’d done. 

But Remus hadn’t had a solid place to live since it had happened almost a year ago. He couch surfed for a while, bouncing between some old friends who had now gone off to college, or just lived in his car. He’d made it work, and had claimed to Virgil that he actually didn’t mind it that much. If he was telling the truth, Virgil wasn’t sure. He’d saved up some money and bought an inflatable mattress that filled up his back seat area, and Virgil was able to give him his family’s old camping stove by convincing them they lost it. It’s not like they’d gone camping since he was a kid, anyways. Last he’d checked, Janus was home for break and Remus was staying with him for the two weeks he was in town, but those two weeks were probably pretty close to done. Unfortunately, Virgil and Janus had never gotten along, so Remus didn’t bring him up. It was a mutual understanding. 

As soon as Remus’ car pulled up to the curb, ten minutes on the dot, Virgil basically flung himself into the passenger seat. The car was warm, so so warm, he almost cried again, this time in relief. Remus pulled back onto the road as soon as he was buckled on. 

“Vee, what happened?” It wasn’t hard to guess, there were only so many reasons his parents would have to kick him out. He’d narrowed it down to his parent’s finally having it with Virgil’s tattoo artist dream, or… well… 

“Someone at my mom’s work found my Instagram. She went up to my mom, basically started gushing about ‘how handsome I was with my boyfriend’. Specifically the picture of us at Pride from a couple years ago.”

“Ah.” Remus knew the picture well. He’d printed it out and it was pinned to the inside of his sun visor. 

“Yeah. Mom called my dad, they were both waiting when I got home. Had screenshots and everything. They grilled me about ‘dishonoring God’ and ‘throwing away my life’. Said I was gonna get AIDS. Die before twenty five. Ya know. The whole lecture.”

Remus didn’t. Surprisingly, him being gay was not a concern of his parent’s. His brother was gay too, and they didn’t give a rat’s ass about that. He nodded along anyways.

“They went on for so long. It was insane. Then they dropped the whole ‘you’re not our son’ thing-” Virgil’s voice cracked, but he swallowed around the lump in his throat and continued, “I figured this is where it was leading to, them kicking me out? I thought they’d give me time to pack, though. Except my dad started getting physical-”

“HE WHAT?!” Remus was tempted to turn the fucking car around and drive to Virgil’s house, just to give his parents a piece of his mind. He was fuming; fuck, he hadn’t been this mad in a while.

“Relax, Rem. I got out before he could actually land a hit. That’s why I don’t have anything with me. I had to run.”

“Doesn’t make it any better.”

“I know.” Virgil pulled his feet up onto the seat cross legged, trying to rub some feeling back into them. Luckily, they weren’t bleeding, just cold as hell. That was one less thing to worry about. “Thanks for picking me up.”

“Of course, Vi,” Remus’ voice had taken on a softer edge that he rarely allowed anyone to see, and he reached over to take one of Virgil’s hands into his own, “Speaking of which, why were you on Jackson? That’s, what, three miles away from your house?”

“When I say I ran, I mean literally. I was scared they would follow me.” Virgil shrugged, as if the statement wasn’t the most heartbreaking thing Remus had ever heard. “I wasn’t thinking clearly, I just ran. That’s why it took me so long to realize I should call you.”

Remus sighed, letting his thumb run against Virgil’s knuckles. “You don’t have to act all brave, Vi.”

“I don’t think I ever saw you cry when you got kicked out.”

“That’s because I didn’t love my parents. I honestly didn’t. I know your parents mean a lot to you. And I’m sorry it went down like it did.”

It was the truth, but he honestly didn’t want to think about it right now. What kind of loving family kicks out their child? Virgil took a shaky breath in and mumbled, “Can we talk about it tomorrow?”

“Okay. Let’s talk about something else. What’s our plan?”

Virgil was quiet for a long moment, as if deep in thought. He watched the scenery fade from his suburban area of town to the darker, rural parts of the town’s edge, not knowing or caring where they were driving. The escape from street lights was nice. “Why do we need a plan?”

Remus’ eyebrows shot up at the sudden playful tone in Virgil’s words. “Oh?”

“I mean, is anything really holding us here?” 

“My, my,” Remus crooned, pulling into an empty lot and parking in the furthest spot from the street, “I thought I was the impulsive one.”

“I’m serious, Rem!” Virgil laughed, swatting lightly at Remus’ hand. The happy sound was like music to his ears. “I’m dead serious! What’s keeping us here?”

“Patton? Logan?”

“Both across the country. And you know they’re considering staying there when they graduate.” Janus’ name was an understood thing. They both knew his school was barely an hour from the other two. Even if Virgil couldn’t stand the guy, he knew that Remus and Janus went far back. Judging by Remus’ slowly brightening expression, he could assume that Janus would probably be down to stay there as well. 

“Work?”

“I work at Walmart. They won’t miss me. Try again.”

Remus scrunched his eyebrows almost thoughtfully, even though this was maybe the easiest decision he’d ever had to make. Plus, they both knew Remus didn’t really ‘think’ in general. “It almost sounds like you want to take a roadtrip, my little emo.”

Virgil scrunched his nose at the nickname, but let a wider smile spread across his tear stained cheeks. “I kind of do.”

Remus shut the car off, turning to his boyfriend with a shit eating grin. “I like this new side of you.”

“Well…” Virgil’s voice turned sheepish under the almost cheshire cat level expression, “Should we?”

“Let’s make up our minds tomorrow.” Remus stated, gesturing to the mattress behind him, “Sleep for tonight. You must be exhausted, coming up with ideas like this.”

Virgil grumbled under his breath, something about ‘not being a baby’, but clambered into the backseat after Remus, double checking the locks on the doors as he went. The air mattress was comfier than he thought it would be, and it was only made better when Remus pulled him in like a teddy bear, tugging a blanket over them. They both sighed in contentment, then promptly burst out laughing at the synchronicity.  

“Oh my god, what have we become?” Remus gasped, pulling Virgil in closer nonetheless. Virgil snorted in response, looking up to meet Remus’ eyes through a haze of sudden exhaustion and amusement. The laughter died down slowly as they both gave in to their fatigue, finishing the day with a slow kiss that left them both breathless. Virgil fell asleep with plans forming and circulating through his mind, the rest of the evening almost forgotten.

--------------------------------------------

His parents were at work, and Virgil knew their kitchen window didn’t lock properly, which was what led to him stuffing everything he could into a black duffel bag while Remus kept watch from his car. He wasn’t too concerned about the parents coming home, but it gave him ample time to look over the map he’d bought from the gas station that morning and plan a route. He didn’t want to admit that his leg was shaking from pure excitement. This idea had been somewhere in the back of his mind for a long time, but he knew Virgil valued his relationship with his family and liked being near them, so he never brought it up. Granted, the situation wasn’t great, but he considered this ‘making the best of it’. A twisted paradise. 

He barely flinched as his trunk was thrown open and Virgil threw his bag inside before hopping back into his seat.

“Okay, so how about we drive up to Maine, apparently the sea food is legendary! Then we cut back through Ohio. There’s literally nothing in Ohio, but we can cross it off the list at least! And then-”

Virgil laughed, cutting him off, “I thought we weren’t planning!”

“Well, we need at least a rough idea,” Remus said with a pout, “What we do there and how long we stay, that’s up to impulse. I was thinking we should try to get through all the states, wouldn’t that be cool?”

Virgil could only nod, leaning forward to kiss Remus again. “Sounds amazing,” he murmured, so close they were almost touching. They’d talked to Logan and Patton earlier that morning, and they were equally as excited for the two of them. Remus had called Janus while Virgil was packing, quickly explaining the situation (and also why Remus had disappeared in the middle of the night), and Janus supported it. Made sense, since he was almost as impulsive as Remus. Plus, he was going back to school in a couple days, so it didn’t make much of a difference. That said, they still didn’t have a time limit. Their friends were just starting second semester, meaning they could schedule themselves to arrive in California for summer break, or they could spend longer on the road. But schedules are for chumps. 

As they rolled out of the quaint neighborhood Virgil had grown up in, Remus reached down and took his hand again. “Say goodbye to white picket fences.” And god, the joyful expression on Virgil’s face was enough to make him melt.

By the time they hit the freeway, they were both nearly shaking with anticipation. Virgil stuck his hands out the sunroof, the wind whipping through his hair, and let out a whoop that was almost contagious. This was the start of something amazing, they both felt it. 

Cali, here we come.

[kinetic-elaboration]

100 Days of Writing: Day Sixty-Three

I decided to catch up on The 100 Days of Writing and then I... accidentally wrote a large number of words. In my defense, this is like 2 weeks’ worth of questions. Also I skipped the ones I didn’t have anything to say about so actually this could be worse.

(I’m not even kidding, this is really long. I talk about writing rituals, tools for plotting, my thoughts on opening with dialogue and why I don’t like it, my favorite topics, the weather, and what length of fic I like to write.)

I’m tagging, and apologizing to, @the-wip-project and fellow participants @she-who-the-river-could-not-hold, @thelittlefanpire, @hopskipaway, @easilydistractedbyfanfic, @dylanobrienisbatman, and @fontainebleau22.

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Day 49: How do you get yourself in the mood to write? Do you have a ritual?

Every time I tell myself I’m going to get back into doing these questions, I see this one in my bookmarks and go nope! and turn around. It’s not a hard question; I’ve just been having trouble consistently getting into the mood to write, so I feel like any answer I try to give to it will be, in some sense, a lie. Like do I ever get “in the mood” to write? Really?? Also, I feel like I’m relying too much on ‘ritual,’ building up ‘the perfect writing situation’ in my head, which at the end of the day is less important than just saying ‘I’m going to do this now’ and then doing it.

I do have some things I always do when I sit down to a writing session. I write on my couch. Almost always (unless I’m on an event deadline where I just have to write in bits and pieces whenever possible), I write in sprints—I use write or die to keep me actually typing and not staring into space. I write in order, and I often write a whole scene at a time. So before I start I need to have at least a couple solid opening sentences in mind, plus some kind of idea about what happens/needs to happen in the scene. In order to get in the right headspace, I usually spend some time just thinking before I actually get to writing. I reread my outline or notes, and skim whatever I might have already written on the project. Sometimes I look at images that help me get in the right mood. Sometimes I just imagine or daydream for a bit. The difficulty, especially recently, is in making sure I do this just enough and not too much, because then I get too caught up in my head and I can no longer translate what I’m seeing into words.

In a broader sense, I also have a building up to writing ritual—again, I think this is part of my problem, that I don’t know how to balance this build up with actual writing. In the hours/days before writing something, I turn it over in my head a lot. I practice different versions of those critical opening sentences. I play it out like a fantasy just to see if there’s a possible flow, even if the final version is different. Basically, I try to turn it into something that just needs to be written, that just needs to get out. But again—this can lead to overthinking and frustration.

The best way I can describe writing for me is that, when it goes well, I find a rhythm, or enter into a zone, where I can describe the images in my head in a way that’s both accurate and pleasant to read. But entering that zone or finding that rhythm is like jumping into a game of jump rope. If you don’t do it right, you’re just going to trip over your feet and get tangled in the rope. But if you do it correctly, it’s fun and exhilarating and you can keep jumping for a long time. Sometimes it takes me some false starts to jump in. And recently I’ve been having days where I just can’t at all, where I tangle the rope up so much I can’t unknot it. Those are the days I just have the same sentences repeating over and over in my head, sounding wrong, and I can’t do anything about it. On the other hand, I write in much longer sprints than I did a couple years ago. I used to only write partial scenes, maybe a few hundred words. Now I can write whole scenes without stopping, and on a few occasions, I’ve written multiple scenes or even whole stories without stopping. So in other words, when it works,  it really works. But it doesn’t always, and there’s not a lot of in between.

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Day 50 What fic/story made you?

Um… honestly I’ve been writing, in general and fic specifically, for such a long time that I didn’t have a ‘maybe I can do this’ moment. I mean one problem I’ve never had is thinking I can’t do this. I had positive reinforcement for my school and academic writing, and for a long time my fictional stories were just for me, and I knew what I liked. Even just thinking about my fic writing… I’ve been posting fic online since 2006, and I’ve been in multiple fandoms. I don’t really have much connection to a lot of those early stories anymore. They feel like they were written by someone else, a little. I’ve also moved on from most of the fandoms I wrote for in my early fic days so I don’t feel like I can really judge them anymore.

That said… there is kinda an obvious answer for my Star Trek fic lol. I also have favorite stories, and stories that stick out even years after I wrote them, in all (or at least most) of the fandoms I’ve been in. But I’m not sure if that’s the same.

Also, I had two teachers who were really encouraging of me and who I still think about often. One was my seventh grade English teacher, who had us do a lot of writing exercises of various types, both large and small, including keeping writing journals we wrote in every day at the start of class. He once told my mom that I wrote well, not for a seventh grader, but in general, and to be honest I still think of that with some regularity and take a lot of pride and comfort in it. The other was my creative writing professor in college. I don’t think I did my best work for that class, but she was very encouraging and seemed to like what I did. At the end of the semester, as I was preparing my portfolio, she told me that if I didn’t want to do much editing, I didn’t have to, because my unedited work would stand on its own. Again, especially considering all the problems that I saw with my writing for that class even then, I really took that comment to heart. When I’m feeling very self-critical, I remind myself that even my raw scribblings have, perhaps, something to them, and it helps ease the excessive and unwarranted pressure I put on myself. These aren’t really stories about specific writing pieces that ‘made’ me but I do think they speak to that ‘maybe I can do this’ feeling.

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Day 51: Do you use tools for plotting and what are they?

So, generally, no. Sometimes I’ll look at various writing/plotting/organizational tools as a method of distraction, but my actual process is very simple. I use plain old notebooks and pens, and word documents on my computer, to plan all my fics, from the one-shots to the multi-chapters. I start by writing down general thoughts and brainstorming, then I build a scene list and/or outline, and then, if necessary, I separate the scenes lists into chapters. Sometimes I break down the scenes even more, if I have additional ideas I don’t wan to forget or if I know I need to hit certain points in a specific scene. The process varies a little bit from project to project, but that’s basically all I do.

I did use Evernote to plan the (still unwritten….) Ark AU. I don’t know if that was the best program choice or if something else exists that would have more precisely met my needs. But that’s what I used and that’s how it is. It’s a little annoying that every time I open it, it’s been updated, and the interface looks totally different and I have to relearn where everything is. But the tagging system has worked decently to allow me to see the big picture of this complex, multi-strand, multi-character, multi-ship disaster epic of a story. I struggled to plot it for a long time because I didn’t know how to balance all of the different parts. In Evernote, I made one ‘note’ for each character, and one for each scene (in addition to miscellaneous notes about sub plots, relationships, questions, etc.). Then I tagged each of them, including tagging the scenes by chapter. So now I can look at a list of all the characters, or all the scenes, or all of the scenes in chapter 8, or whatever, but I can also look at just one particular note at a time, and not be distracted by anything else. That said, I do also have one note that is just a total scene list for the whole fic, which is pretty reminiscent of my usual outlining process.

So… somehow this helped me plot (tentatively) the whole thing, but as I’ve written almost none of it—I finished outlining this in February 2020 so in my defense… I think you can see why it stalled—I’m not yet sure if it was a successful experiment in a ‘plotting tool.’

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Day 60: How do you start your chapters? Do you start with dialogue? Why or why not?

While I am definitely against prescriptive “writing rues” generally, as my own personal rule, I try not to start with dialogue unless I have a very good reason.

To be quite honest, I think it’s lazy. I do think that dialogue openings can be used well, if the writer acknowledges that they are intensely stylistic and, from a reader’s perspective, quite difficult. Even within fanfiction, where a line of dialogue (especially if accompanied by a dialogue tag or swiftly followed by a reference to the speaker) gives a lot more information to the reader than in original fiction, opening with dialogue still shoves the reader directly into the deep end of the scene, with very little to orient her. WHERE is the speaker? WHO is being addressed in the dialogue? WHAT is the context of the conversation? Who ELSE might be present in the scene?

There are reasons you might want to throw the reader in the aforementioned deep-end. Maybe it’s an in media res situation and you want to emphasize the overwhelming nature of the action—starting a scene with “Get down!” for example. Or maybe the overall mood is one of disorientation or floating or uncertainty, and you want to create the same effect in the reader.

But I think if you’re starting a scene with dialogue because that’s the first thing that comes to mind for you—the person who conveniently already has the setting, character list, and even future plot already in mind—and it’s just simplest and easiest to start that way, you’re doing a disservice to the reader.

For example, I actually am planning to start the next chapter of the Sleeping Beauty AU with dialogue. My POV character is in a room with multiple other characters, and she’s examining something meaningful to her and not fully listening to the conversation around her. So I want the dialogue to float around in the background, to feel unmoored, and to stand in contrast to the very precise, detailed thoughts and memories that she’s experiencing, which are grounded in physical sensations like touch.

I haven’t quite gotten it to work yet, though, in part because opening with dialogue and doing it well is, in my opinion, quite hard. The difficulty lies in alleviating the challenges the reader is experiencing and making the text fluid and easy to picture. You need to get all of that scene-setting information—the who, what, when, where, and why—in very quickly, but without being jarring. In this scene in particular, I have multiple characters, all in a comparatively unusual location, and I need to establish where they are, who exactly is there, how they’ve come to meet my POV character (which happens ‘off screen’ between the end of Ch5 and the beginning of Ch6), all on top of the character’s thoughts and feelings.

I know all of this very well. To picture the scene in my own head takes only a moment. I just think about it and I see all seven of the characters, where they’re sitting, how they’re positioned, what their facial expressions are, and I also know roughly what each of them is thinking and feeling. To describe all of this in words would take several sentences. Do I put all those sentences on the front end? Do I weave them in among other description and dialogue? Is all of it even necessary—maybe we don’t need to know who’s sitting in what order on the couch, for example.

I’ve gone over a couple of different ways to do this in my head, and I’m sure it is possible, but I’m struggling to get it all down in a coherent way. (Admittedly, I’ve only made one solid attempt. As I was describing above, I’m probably going to jump in with several false starts, and then it will suddenly click.)

My initial attempt to set up the scene relied heavily on dialogue, but when I read it over, what sounded snappy and interesting in my head just fell completely flat—because it lacked context and thus, any meaning. I think the gulf between how dialogue openings feel to the writer and how they feel to the reader is large. To the writer, they feel easy and natural. To the reader, they can feel forced and, contrary to the writer’s intention, serve as an additional reminder that this is a constructed narrative rather than an immersive experience—the opposite of natural. In other words, as I said, they’re a highly stylized form of writing.

To illustrate, this was my first try at the Chapter 6 intro:

"I still can't believe it," a lightly awed voice says from somewhere behind Clarke. "The Princess of Alpha Station really used to live in our quarters.”

She pictures Miller, sunk into the couch cushions, slowly shaking his head, the expression on his face equal parts satisfied and amused.

"Really? That's what you think is the oddest part of all this?"

"Yeah, Bry, I do. Would you prefer I gloat? About being right this whole time? Who says she's just a legend now?"

My current idea is to still start with dialogue, but to move back into a significant amount of description pretty immediately afterward, and only then add more dialogue. Even this is a little hazy, since I haven’t thought much about this fic in a while. But I do think it’s quite clear this won’t work.

As for how I DO start chapters/scenes/stories… I like to start with a strong image that sets the scene and mood of the story, and hopefully leaves the reader wanting to know more. Here are some examples of story openings I’ve written recently, which I like a lot:

When Bellamy is angered, deafening bouts of thunder shake the heavens.

The cawing of the crows—high, sharp, angry shots of sound. The buzzing of the telephone wires.

Marcus Kane's body shows up again in June, skeletal and rotting, six months after his disappearance at the turn of the year.

The sky has turned a bruised yellow, like the inside of a plum, by the time Bellamy starts seeing the robots in the fields.

At noon on the third-to-last day before Christmas, Murphy leaves the cafe, with a single peppermint mocha and a small paper bag, and heads right, walking parallel to the ocean.

The last one doesn’t seem as interesting but consider: you get the who, what, when, and where, the mystery of the paper bag and where he might be going, and also the immediate understanding that this is probably going to be a Fluffy Beach Christmas story—which is correct, that’s exactly what it is.

I’m not saying that I’m always creative or unique. I often start stories off with descriptions of the weather. And I have committed the ~~cardinal sin~~ of starting with a character waking up, heaven forbid. I don’t have any hard and fast rules for myself other than that I try to avoid dialogue, or at least, be careful about its use (another example: I use dialogue to start off Mad Women—but it reads like narration, until it’s rudely interrupted, a sort of in-joke/reference/twist). I try to match the mood of the story and, as I said, include something that will create a question for the reader, some version of why, that the rest of the story will answer.

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Day 61: Do you describe the weather? Try changing a scene you wrote by adding weather effects.

After writing a book for the last question, here’s an easy one! Yes, I describe the weather. A lot. Often. In detail.

(Though if we’re talking about the Sleeping Beauty AU as my “current wip,” I actually don’t do much weather describing there, because 4 of the 6 chapters take place in a location with no weather.)

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Day 62: What is your favorite thing to write about?

Honestly I like to write about people being dramatic about their emotions. That’s what I’ve discovered while writing my surprisingly self-indulgent Troped fic: I want to describe people acting as if Everything was the Most Ever. It’s fun. Part of this is getting into the usual romantic tropes—longing, pining, exaggerated touches and glances and the like—but why stop at romance when you also have stuff like The Weather and Random Feelings to contemplate?

I also like setting scenes that I find soothing, which is part of why I like Seasonal Stories.

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Day 63: Are you more of a drabble/flash or a longfic/novel kind of writer?

I’m in the middle. I mostly write one-shots, and I’ve noticed that a lot of them fall in the 4-6k range. Long one-shots can get all the way to 10-12k but I feel like most of those are, semi-objectively speaking, too long, and would probably have been stronger if they were pruned down to 6k, or, better yet, never made it past 6k in the first place.

I have written some multi-chapters, or, uh, started multi-chapters, but I’m VERY bad at it. The only thing that makes me slightly less bad is being stubborn. Hence the existence of a WIP that I’ve had going for over 10 years now and refuse to call abandoned. Hence this year’s extended angst about the Sleeping Beauty AU, which is only 6 chapters but has taken me literally years to write. I don’t honestly know if I’ve ever finished a multi-chapter WIP, like, properly speaking. I’ve done some short multi-chapters that I wrote as if they were one-shots and then split up for ease of reading or, I dunno, just because. I wrote a Big Bang once, but it’s not very good. Nor very long, if I remember correctly. Generally speaking I probably shouldn’t be allowed to write novels lol—I have a lot of them in my ‘I should write this one day’ idea list—but as it so happens, no one can stop me, so here we are. I definitely have wild fantasies of writing multi-chapters with ease but I’m just a very slow writer and my ideas can’t keep up with my actual-writing. Thus one shots are much easier than multi-chaps, and one-shots on a deadline are much easier than ‘I’ll finish this whenever’ one-shots. One-shots written for events or exchanges also tend to be shorter (and, imo, better) because of the deadlines they’re written on, and are thus more likely to hit that sweet 4-6k spot than stories where I’m allowed to ramble at will.

All that said, I ALSO write a good number of drabbles/writing exercises. I used to write them more often than I do now, but still over the last five years I’ve produced 110,000+ words in free-standing scenes so like… that’s also a thing I guess.